Innocent Eyes
by TheJoshuaTree87
Summary: Aggressive. Animated. Apprehensive. Beneath their differences and dissimilarities is an inseparable friendship they share together, and a bond that they wouldn't dream of changing. Together, they explore the challenges of romance, family and, most importantly, friendship.
1. Born to Try

To be certain she hadn't been spotted, Cynthia tentatively peered from out of the bush to inspect. Instead of changing his actions, Gerome continued to interact with the wyvern as it lapped water from the lake with its tongue. The young man reached behind the creature's ear and scratched it gently.

Cynthia continued to stare in eager wonderment.

 _Aww, he's so attentive and caring. I'll bet Minerva loves it when he scratches and rubs her. Golly, I wish I had that kind of relationship with my Pegasus._

After a few more moments, Cynthia hastily ducked beneath the bush and prepared herself to try and speak with him.

 _Alright, here we go, Cynthia. You can do this, girl. You just need to remain calm and relaxed. Don't try and overwhelm him, just be warm, friendly and inviting. I just need to be – ooh, a butterfly – no, stop! Focus on him! Just focus on what you're going to say._

Hesitantly, she raised she inspected on Gerome once more. He hadn't moved. She was about to stand up and announce her presence when a sudden surge of panic and fear overwhelmed her, preventing her from continuing. Hastily, she retreated down again.

 _What are you doing? Just speak with him! Goodness, why do I have to be such a coward? C'mon, Cynthia, you can do this! What do you have to be afraid of? You've spoken with Gerome loads of time! Like, remember that time it was really late and he walked past your bedroom window, and you ran downstairs just to – OK, bad example!_

 _I know, just talk to him like you would when you were younger. Yeah, that'll work. Just remind him how much fun the two of you had together playing Justice Cabal. Golly, we haven't done that in, like, forever. Ooh, you remember that one time when the two of you were playing, you were the beautiful princess, and he was_ –

"Is there something you need, Cynthia?"

Cynthia felt her heart skip abruptly. Tentatively, she slowly stood up from spot and was greeted with the presence of the young man she had been monitoring he continued to attend his companion.

"Aww" moaned Cynthia petulantly, "how did you know it was me?" She folded her arms, displeased that she had been discovered.

"Vegetation with orange pigtails growing on it isn't native to this region" replied Gerome stoically.

Frantically, Cynthia brought her hand to hair to inspect the damage and, just as she suspected, several leaves were tangled in between her pigtails.

Cynthia stared in confusion as she tried to process his last statement. "Hey, wait a minute…" she began sly, "pigtails don't grow on bushes, silly." Her hands migrated to her hips, certain that she had out smartened him.

Gerome turned his attention, and he stared expressionlessly. Upon analysing her accusation, she smiled bashfully. "Oh, you were joking." Cynthia rubbed the back of her head uncomfortably with an equally awkward giggle of forced enthusiasm.

Gerome returned to his wyvern.

Humiliated, Cynthia tried to process her next action after having already made a fool of herself in front of the man she admired. Concluding confidently that she needed to approach him, shebegan to make her way out of the bush. But as luck would have it, an inconveniently placed root was situated near her foot, propelling the young woman forward as she shrieked with surprise before making contact with the dirt.

After coming to her senses, Cynthia hastily scrambled back to her feet. Her bashful, embarrassed grin returned as she placed her hands back on her hips confidently in an effort to remain composed. Gerome hadn't acknowledged her accident. continued to focus his attention away from her.

Cynthia huffed as she slowly approached him.

 _Well, this couldn't have gone any better. He probably thinks you look like a stupid little girl - even more so than usual! C'mon, Cynthia, pull it together, just be friendly. Whatever you do, don't say something embarrassing!_

"So" she began casually, "how have you been?"

 _Ha, nailed it!_

"What are you doing here, Cynthia?

Cynthia was unprepared for such a direct question. The young man _had_ discovered her following him, so Cynthia decided he was entitled to an explanation.

"What am I doing here? Well…um…what _was_ I doing? Oh yeah, that's right. So, I was in the markets with Mum when I saw you and Minerva approaching the entrance to the forest, and I thought to myself 'hey, I wonder what Gerome has been up to lately because we haven't spoken with each other in a while', so I said 'goodbye' to Mum and began to follow you from afar because I didn't want to disturb you - just in case you were busy with something - and then I -"

"Do you require my services?"

Cynthia's frantic, chaotic rambling was brought to a complete silence. Despite his mask covering a good percentage of his face, Cynthia could still feel his cold, abrasive glare staring straight through her.

The young woman smiled bashfully as she began to play with one of her pig-tails absentmindedly. "Well…no, but-"

"Then you and I are done here."

Before the young woman could continue, the young man gently tugged on his companion's leash and began to escort the creature away. Cynthia could only stare in shock and disbelief.

Desperately, Cynthia began a steady jog after him. "No! Wait, Gerome, please...I just...let me explain myself!"

Upon reaching his position, the Pegasus knight stood in front of him and his wyvern, bringing them to a halt. After catching her breath, she focused her attention on him with pleading eyes. "Please? Look, I'm sorry for watching you from the bushes. It was rude…and impolite…and really creepy now that I think about it." She shook her head to try and dispel the unsettling notion. "There's just something I've been really meaning to ask you."

Cynthia waited anxiously for a response. Instead of an immediate answer, she stood in silence as Gerome continued to stare at her, unflinching and unresponsive. But after what felt like an eternity of silence for her, Gerome sighed begrudgingly.

"Very well."

Smiling appreciatively, she started to share her thoughts. Rather than answer concisely, she began to ramble once more. "OK, well, you remember when I said I followed you and Minerva because I wanted to speak with you, right? Well, I kind of lied…wait, I mean: I _did_ want to speak with you but _that_ wasn't the reason because – look, this is something I've wanted to ask you for some time now but I've nev-"

She hadn't realised she had been rambling until Gerome cleared his throat audibly.

"Sorry about that" she replied bashfully, "sometimes I just…don't know when to stop."

Before continuing, Cynthia's hands migrated to her chest where they began to fiddle anxiously together. "What I was _going_ to ask is", she hesitated, "if you're not too busy - and _only_ if you have some free time available - would you'd like to...hang out…sometime?"

Cynthia observed an eyebrow rasied in confusion. " _Hang out_?"

"Yeah, just the two of us…together?" Her hands migrated behind her back as she absentmindedly fidgeted on the spot. "It's just...you and I haven't hung out in quite some time now, and I was hoping we could start doing it again?" She raised her hands defensively. "Not right now, of course, 'cause you're busy and all…but", she smiled hopefully, "whenever you're available?"

Cynthia waited in bated anticipation for a response. Slowly, Gerome returned his attention towards her and answered stoically.

"Thank you for the offer, but no."

Overwhelmed and disappointed, Cynthia could only watch as the young man she admired so dearly faded deeper and deeper into the distance. The young woman's eyes darted frantically from side to side as she tried to think of what to do next.

 _He's leaving! Cynthia, you fool, say something! Anything!_

"T-that's OK" she called out to him desperately, "we can hang out…some other time!"

 _Anything…but that…_

Cynthia's mouth hung open in disappointment as she continued to watch Gerome progress further away. After a few more moments, he disappeared completely from sight.

Alone and disheartened, Cynthia's approached the closest tree trunk and forcefully planted her forehead against. Groaning of displeasure and frustration, Cynthia turned around and leaned against the trunk. "Idiot! You stupid, stupid idiot! Why do you always do this? Why can't you just speak to him like a normal person? Why do you have to be so…so... _weird_?"

After a moment of self-reflection and penitence, the distressed young woman slowly turned around and began to make her way down the path as well, her arms hanging lazily behind her back and her vision affixed to the ground.

She exhaled with exhaustion and disappointment. "It's no wonder he doesn't like me…"


	2. Predictable

Staring at the ceiling of her bedroom was proving to be a remarkably ineffective method for answers, thought Cynthia. After an exhausting and regretful afternoon, there was nothing the young woman wanted more than to forget about everything that had taken place.

Reflecting on the experience was not helping. But then again, neither was her friend.

"Well, it sounds like following him from behind a bush proved to be a stupid idea" remarked Severa.

"Hey, following him was _your_ stupid idea!"

"Yeah, _follow_ him, not stalk him like a predator, gods!"

Cynthia groaned with frustration. "Why do I even bother?" She collapsed onto her bed and retrieved a pillow, covering her face with it. Cynthia was beginning to regret ever inviting Severa for a comforting, reassuring talk; their patronising responses weren't helping in the slightest.

Severa was curious as to what Cynthia insinuated. "W-well, why did you ask for help from me in the first place?"

"Oh, I don't? Maybe because you're my best friend!?"

Cynthia sighed deeply. What caused ther the most distress is that despite her red-headed friend's stubborn attitude, they _were_ right - she _had_ disobeyed her friend's suggestion, and gone behind Gerome's back to monitor him. Exhaustedf, Cynthia projected her arms out to the side and dangled them lazily off the bed.

Even though she had a reputation for being quite selfish and unforgiving, seeing her best friend in a state of turmoil and trouble was causing Severa a deal of discomfort; she couldn't help but feel responsible for the afternoon's events.

Severa gently placed ahand on her friend's leg. "Look, Cynth, I'm sorry for what happened today, we both are. But…I _did_ tell you to...you know…?"

"I know", came a muffled groan. Cynthia removed the pillow and sluggishly returned to seating position with her back against the wall and her arms around her knees.

"I _know._ I should have done what you suggested. I should have just waited him for him." She sighed deeply, "it's just…I got _really_ anxious to speak with him - like today was going to be _the_ day when we could become friends again…but I guess not."

"Hey, come on, don't be like that" reassured Severa, still inexperienced with providing support. "Look, we're here for you if you need us, no matter what happens, alright?"

Cynthia returned her attention to her friend beside her. The red-head's display of comfort and support was enough for the young woman to develop a smile on her face, a weak one albeit.

"Hey, what was it that Gerome said to you at the end, again?"

"What? When I stopped him to ask if he wanted to hang out?"

Severa nodded eagerly.

"Well…he", she shrugged sorrowfully, "he said 'thanks but no thanks' or something like that…and then he walked away."

Severa's smile widened."You see?" To try and help her understand, Severa took told of her friend's hand and shook it gently. "I mean, yeah, it was rude of him to just walk away, but he didn't flat out reject you either."

Cynthia listened attentively, try desperately to process what Severa was insinuating.

"In my opinion, it sounds to me like he was just, y'know busy or something. If he _really_ didn't want to spend time with you, he would have established that. Hell, he _thanked_ you for the offer. _That_ has to mean something, right?"

Severa watched as a small but hopeful smile began to develop on her friend's lips. However, a remorseful frown reemerged on Cynthia's face as she placed her chin in her hands.

"I don't know" she replied solemnly, "he sounded pretty serious, and when we were talking before that he sounded really annoyed with me…like he _really_ didn't want to talk." Cynthia looked at Severa distressingly. "I don't think he likes me."

Severa rolled her eyes "Well, obviously. Otherwise you two would be going out by now."

"No" responded Cynthia desperately, "not like that. I mean: I don't think he _likes_ me…as a person…for who I am."

Severa was about to object and reassure her friend that she was being ridiculous but before she could say anything, Cynthia collapsed backwards onto her bed.

Sluggishly, Cynthia hung her head over the edge, creating the perspective that everything was upside down. Readjusting her vision, Cynthia focused her attention on her other best friend sitting quietly on the other side of the room.

"What do _you_ think I should do, Noire?"

The young woman in question anxiously raised her head, startled and embarrassed.

"M-me!?"

For the past hour, Noire had remained all but completely silent as she absentmindedly fiddled with her fingers and hair. Even though she hadn't contributed to the discussion about Cynthia's efforts to impress Gerome, the archer had still been listening very carefully and attentively.

Noire exchanged frightened glances between her two friends. "Oh, goodness…I don't know."

"Oh, come on," encouraged Cynthia, "you're _really_ smart! I bet you have loads of ideas." Cynthia smiled hopefullyfor her friend. "Please? I'm _desperate_ at this point."

Unfortunately, Noire could not provide a conclusive answer - at least, one that hadn't already been suggested. Throwing caution to the wind, she reluctantly began.

"W-well, I don't know if anything I suggest is helpful or not…but if _I_ were trying to become better acquainted with someone better…I suppose I'd…just-"

Doubt and uncertainty overcame her as she began to reconsider ever speaking in the first place. Regretfully, she averted her eyes.

The Pegasus rider stirred restlessly. "What's wrong? No, what were you going to say?"

Noire rubbed her arm uncomfortably. "Oh, n-nothing. It's…it's silly…and irrelevant."

Severa shifted closer. "No, what were you going to say" she asked feverishly, "let's hear it! From what we've heard about this afternoon, _no_ suggestion is off-limits for little miss stalker' here." Severa nudged Cynthia with her arm.

Cynthia retaliated with the same gesture. "H-hey, that was _your_ idea, remember?"

A small smile graced Noire's lips as she watched her friend's playfully squabble. While she was never one who participated in their group's exchanges of banter and teasing, seeing her two best friends interact and communicate with each other once again captivated her. She felt very lucky to know her friends, and was relieved to see that they were on good-terms again.

After sighing deeply, Noire composed herself. "T-this may sound…silly, but have you ever just tried…speaking with Gerome?"

Cynthia rolled her eyes playfully, amused by the question. "Well, _duh_ , obviously. That's what I've been trying to do in the past."

"N-no, not like that. I mean...instead of trying to persuade him to spending time with you, couldn't you just try…being polite…and hospitable…rather than try and impress him?"

Noire felt her body whole body tense when she finished. Rather than a verbal response, Noire and Severa didn't hear anything at all. The two women observed their friend with curiosity as Cynthia sat attentively on the edge, evidently concentrating. Severa and Noire exchanged a look of concern and doubt between them.

"I'm s-sorry, Cynthia…but I just...I don't know" whispered Noire remorsefully after watching Cynthia's eager expression falter. "I'm really sorry. Oh, goodness, I shouldn't have said anything. I just... I don't really know what to say to help you."

Cynthia slowly returned her attention and smiled gently. "No, it's alright," replied Cynthia sincerely with a dismissive sigh, "I'm being ungrateful."

Cynthia rolled over onto her back again. "I'm sorry I caught you on the spot. I don't mean to, y'know, interrogate you or something. I know you don't have much experience with boys so I shouldn't have expected you to-"

"Hey!" Severa whispered threateningly.

Startled, Cynthia rose up from her the bed "What!?"

Cynthia was shocked to see that Severa's typical scornful expression had returned as they at her with disappointment and frustration. It was only when the Pegasus rider return her attention tiNoire did she understand what had just happened.

Guilt, remorse and regret enveloped Cynthia when she witnessed the azure-haired woman staring back at her with a sorrowful, hurt expression. Cynthia hadn't realised she had just unintentionally insulted her best friend.

Hastily, Cynthia raised her hands. "No, Noire" she began frantically, "I didn't...that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to say it like _that_. What I was trying to say was…"

The young woman was beginning to ramble anxiously again, unable to express what she was trying to say. "Gods, I'm such an idiot today."

"She didn't mean to suggest anything rude or insulting" interjected Severa reassuringly. " _I_ know what she was trying to say. It's perfectly fine that you don't talk with guys very often, and that's – no, wait…that's not helping. What _I_ was trying to say is…"

Before either woman could proceed continue, they were brought to silence after hearing their friend politely intervene.

"I-it's OK" spoke Noire reassuringly with a small, bashful smile, "I'm OK. I…I know what you really meant, and I'm not upset. I understand what you were trying to say…and you're right - I don't have a lot of experience dealing with these types of situations."

Severa and Cynthia smiled appreciatively. Although they were both disappointed in themselves for ever possibly insinuating anything hurtful, they were relieved that their friend had not been offended. Ever since the inception of their friendship, the two of them came to understand just how delicate and fragile their friend was, and how unforgiving she could be on herself. Cynthia and Severa knew just how important Noire's safety and well-being was, and they always tried to make sure she was positive and secure.

Noire began to rub her arm again uncomfortably. "I'm really sorry about what happened, Cynthia."

Cynthia waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about that. _That_ – well, it's in the past now. And besides, it's not _your_ fault."

Noire nodded her head understandingly. "I…I know…but I'm sorry that I couldn't help you earlier."

The young archer's heart beat increased as she continued speaking. "I know I'm not the most…useful…or reliable person there is, but you two are my very best friends…and you mean the world to me. So I want you to know…that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you…just as you two have always been there for me."

Noire's heartfelt profession of friendship made Cynthia squeal excitedly. "Oh my goodness, that was beautiful" whispered the young woman as she eagerly rose to her feet and extended her arms, inviting her friend for an embrace. "I love you too, Noire."

With an eager and flustered expression, Noire tentatively stood up to accept her friend's embrace. What she didn't expect was for Cynthia to practically tackle her from the waist and constrict her in a powerful grip. After a brief moment of surprise, Noire smiled contently and returned the embrace.

Severa sat and observed silently as her two best friends shared a moment together. It took true strength and confidence to Noire to share something like that, and the red-head was both touched impressed with her display of affection.

Severa hadn't realised she was staring until Cynthia extended her hand, gesturing to her join them. After scoffing amusingly, Severa begrudgingly accepted Cynthia's hand and was forcefully pulled towards her friends. The red-head collided clumsily into her friends, nearly toppling Noire over. She felt ridiculous participating in something so childish but after being greeted with Cynthia's ecstatic, excited grin and Noire's small, sincere smile, she lovingly returned the gesture.


	3. Be Strong

For the remaining hours of the afternoon, the Cynthia's bedroom was filled with the sounds of laughter and delight. While their conversations were still primarily focused on the subject of Cynthia and her crush, other topics were also in rotation, the most exciting being Noire's upcoming eighteenth Birthday. While she assured she didn't want anything extravagant or excessive done, the mischievous smiles exchanged between her two friends insinuated that they had already planned something.

A quiet yawn emitted from the young archer emphasised just how late it was getting. Noire and Severa had lost count of how many times Cynthia had thanked them for their company. The Pegasus rider couldn't express how grateful she was for their' support and encouragement.

Like all nurturing and caring guardians, Cynthia's mother, Sumia, couldn't bear to let them leave unless they were properly fed and nourished. Despite the tempting offer, and their friend's eager encouragement for them to stay, Noire and Severa had to politely decline the offer for a meal.

Not unlike his wife, Gaius wouldn't let them leave without a treat for the road. Severa wasted no time and eagerly accepted the lollipop. Noire harboured some reluctance, but her inner sweet-tooth couldn't resist the temptation, and she gladly accepted.

Cynthia accompanied them outside the door, and with one final energetic wave of goodbye, she bid her friends farewell and returned inside.

With the sunn resting lower and lower, the young women began their journey back to their respected homes. Severa frantically tore the wrapping off her treat and indulged. Noire cradled it like a delicate object, taking only small licks of the treat every so often.

"You really don't have to walk me home, Severa" spoke Noire bashfully, "I'm more than capable of walking on my own now."

Severa smirked. "Are you sure? What about all the wicked demons and monsters hiding in the shadows? Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"Wha-? No! I'm not scared of the dark…anymore."

Severa waved her hand dismissively. "I'm joking. Gods, lighten up." She rolled her eyes before adopting a sincere tone. "I don't mind, I really don't. Ever since I can remember I've always walked with you back to your place, and I don't plan on stopping now. Who _else_ is gonna protect you? Besides, it means you and I can spend some more quality time together – girl to girl." She gently nudged her friend.

Noire sighed remorsefully. "But I'm turning eighteen soon, and I don't want you to be wasting any more of your time. I think it's time I started…behaving more maturely…and taking responsibility."

"Yeah, alright, I understand", Severa acknowledged, "I can't be holding your hand forever. But even _after_ your birthday, I'm still gonna be your personal bodyguard whether you like it or not."

Noire smiled uncertainly. "W-well, alright…but only if you're still comfortable with it. I don't want to be a burden."

Severa sighed with exhaustion. "Come on, enough with this whole 'I'm a burden' business. I told you, I don't mind walking with you." She sighed softly. "Alright, look at it like this. It's not that I _don't_ think you're capable of walking by yourself - because I do, and I know you're strong enough to do so - it's just…" she shrugged her shoulders bashfully, "it's just I want to make sure that you're safe…because you're my friend…and I care about you."

Noire felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She didn't want to admit it, but the notion of walking home alone was confronting, so Severa's companionship was something she had always cherished. Even though she still felt childish and immature, she was infinitely grateful for Severa's commitment and devotion.

"Th-thank you", whispered Noire appreciatively, "that means a lot to me."

Severa's scoffed. "Yeah, and you better appreciate what I just said because you're never gonna hear me say that again"."She pointed accusingly. "And don't ever repeat it to anyone else either, got it?"

Noire giggled, imitating a zipping motion with her fingers. "My lips are sealed."

"Good."

As the paircontinued the walk, their casual discussions about their personal lives inevitably returned to the subject of their good friend and her romantic infatuation with the reclusive wyvern trainer.

 _"That_ girl needs serious help. Gods above, she _really_ has her head stuck in the clouds."

Noire sighed understandingly. "She's…she's just a little misdirected."

"Yeah, obviously, there is no other word more appropriate. I mean, seriously, of all the boys in this kingdom, she falls the moody, gloomy one who hides in the shadows."

"He's not so bad. He's just…I think he just prefers to be alone."

"No, I didn't mean to suggest I dislike him or anything. I've got nothing against Gerome, it's just…I think she may be in a little over her head."

"What do you mean?"

Severa sighed. "I think she might be trying to make something out nothing, you know? I mean, she's so bright and cheerful, and he just isn't. You said it yourself - 'he prefers to be alone.' They couldn't be any more different from one another."

"So…you don't think he's right for her?"

"Well…I don't know. Like I said, I've got nothing against him, but I don't think he's the one for her. I just don't think he's her type. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Noire nodded. "I understand what you mean."

"Like, she should be off chasing after someone more like her. Someone else who's always so unusually happy and excited…like Owain or", Severa shuddered, "…Inigo."

A small smile graced Noire lips. She knew very well how flustered and frustrated Severa became whenever the young prince of Ylisse tried to make an advance on the red-head.

"Are you worried about her?"

Severa returned her gaze."I mean, yeah, I am - she's my friend and I don't want to see her get hurt - but I don't think she's in any real danger. Gerome's cold and bitter and all, but I don't think he could ever do something that'll hurt her. He sounds like he understands her better than most." Severa furrowed her eyebrows. "Why? Are you scared for Cynthia?"

Noire bit her lip. "Well…yes" she replied sheepishly, "I _am_ concerned about her well-being. If she keeps patrolling around surveying him from afar, she might get into trouble. But she's sounds like she has her heart set on him…so…I'm not sure, actually…"

"Do you think they might get together in the end?"

Noire shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably."I don't know. I _want_ her to be happy, I'd want that more than anything…but I can't help but feel she might be left with a broken heart, and I don't want that to happen. So…a part of me really hopes that she'll find happiness in Gerome, but the other part of me agrees with you. He _may_ not be the one for her. Do _you_ think they will?"

Severa also shrugged with confusion."It's hard to say. She sounds pretty keen on him, and she is nothing if not passionate about her interests. It's just…why did it have to be Gerome? I honestly don't know what she sees in him."

With a trace of hopeful optimism, Noire smiled hopefully. "Perhaps she sees something in him that we don't?"

Severa scoffed. "She'd have to. I can't think of any other reason why someone like her would want to go out with someone like him." She sighed with exhaustion and placed her arms behind her neck. "I just don't know what _we_ should do."

Noire nodded understandingly.

After a few more minutes sharing their doubts and concerns, Severa and Noire concluded that the best they could was be available for Cynthias should she ever need help, support or just someone to speak with. Cynthia had always gone out of her way to be there for her friends, and Severa and Noire were more than prepared to do the same, even if it did mean just providing a supportive shoulder to lean on.


	4. Beautiful Madness

Although she begged them to stay at least until after tea time, Cynthia's two friends had spent the better half of the afternoon with her, and she thought they deserved a rest. Besides, there was only less than a day before would see them again.

After closing the front door behind her, Cynthia began to make her back through the house and into the dining room where she was greeted by her father, gesturing towards the seat beside him.

"Thanks for offering some of your lollies." Cynthia took her seat. "I know you don't like sharing, but it was really nice of you."

Gaius waved dismissively. "Bah, rubbish. It's the least I can do. I can't let my girl's friends leave without something to nibble on. Besides", he gestured towards his bag of sweets, "there's plenty more where those came from."

Cynthia eyes illuminated as she adopted an exaggerated childlike demeanour. "Don't suppose there's one left for little ol' me?"

"We'll see."

The young woman's huffed petulantly. " _That_ always means no..."

Gaius raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't say you couldn't have one. We'll just have to see if you're well-behaved."

Cynthia folded her arms, displeased.

"Alright, you two, that's enough" announced Sumia, cradling two bowls in her hand, "no fighting at the table." The former Pegasus Knight placed a bowl soup in front of each of her family members.

Gaius recoiled from the contents of his bowl in mock disgust. "What is _this_?"

Jokingly, Sumia lovingly wrapped her arms around him his shoulders. "It's roasted pumpkin soup - your favourite."

"Yeah, I know _that,_ it's just", he suspended his spoon above the bowl, "where's the sugar? Where are the treats?"He jokingly inspected underneath the bowl, provoking a snortfrom Cynthia.

"No sweats, no treats, no nothing", answered Sumia, "just good old-fashioned pumpkin soup with garlic and chives."

"Oh, come on. Can't you at least, I'dunno, put some sprinkles on top or something?"

Sumia exhaled with exhaustion and proceeded to return to the kitchen. "It's about time you started eating a little more healthily, mister. Your stomach will thank you later for it."

With her mother occupied elsewhere, Cynthia watched as her father retrieved a small bottle of syrup from within his sleeve and carefully unscrew the cap.

With a smirk, Cynthia knew exactly what to do. "Mum", she exclaimed, "Mum! Dad's pouring syrup into his soup!"

Proudly, Cynthia watched as her mother appeared behind him, confiscating the bottle before taking her seat beside him and firmly gesturing towards his bowl. Begrudgingly, he retrieved his spoon.

The thief glared accusingly at his daughter. "Yeah, no sweets for you anymore."

"Aww, what!?"

* * *

"Are you sure Severa and Noire could not have stayed a little longer? I've prepared more than enough for them."

Cynthia swallowed her mouthful of soup and responded. "Yeah, I really wanted them to the stay as well, but Severa promised to walk Noire home." She smiled uncertainly. "You know how… _protective_ …her Mum is…so..."

"No, I understand. She has a curfew and we need to respect it."

"Well, it's not really a curfew, it's just", she sighed softly, "it's just Noire has always been…you know…?"

"Delicate?"

"Yeah. Well, not really. But...she just needs support sometimes."

Her mother smiled warmly. "I understand. She's such a beautiful young woman, isn't she?"

Cynthia nodded excitedly. "Yeah, she is."

"I heard a lot of bumping and thudding coming from upstairs", interjected her father, "you lot weren't fighting, were you?"

Cynthia giggled. "Oh, no, of course not. We were just mucking around, that's all. You know, just a bit of play-fighting."

"Oh, heavens, Cynthia. Not with Noire, I hope not?"

The young woman raised her hands defensively. "What? No, of course not. It was just me and Severa. Honestly, we were just, you know, pushing and shoving each other around. Nothing serious. Noire was just…spectating."

Sumia's distressed expression softened. "Very well. But do try to be more sensible next time. I don't mind you having friends over but just so long as you aren't being disrespectful."

"I wasn't, I promise."

Her mother weakly. "OK, I believe you."

The conversations shared and exchanged between Cynthia and her parents rotated around a catalogue of unique and diverse topics, some more engaging than others; when her parents started exchanging subtle romantic gestures between them, she frantically retreated back into her thoughts so she couldn't hear any more.

"Cynthia?"

She looked over to her mother. "Hmm?"

"This morning, you said you needed to speak with Cherche's son about something important."

Cynthia felt her heartbeat intensify. "Y-yeah? Why? Was I not supposed to?"

"Oh, no. I didn't mind at all. It's just you said it was very urgent, and I wanted to know if you ever managed to speak with him?"

Although she had long since confided in Severa and Noire about her crush on the mysterious wyvern rider, she hadn't dared to speak with her parents about it, mostly out of fear that they may overreact.

"Oh, yeah, I did, that's right" she responded with fabricated enthusiasm. She waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, he said…yeah, he – yeah, it went alright, thank you. He's…he's fine." Upon concluding, she hastily retrieved her spoon and returned to shoveling soup into her mouth.

"I don't mean to intrude", continued her mother uncertainly, "but if you don't mind me asking, dear, what was it you needed to speak with him about?"

The young woman shrugged her shoulder halfheartedly. "Oh, y'know, stuff."

" _Stuff_?" Gaius asked curiously.

"Yeah…just stuff" responded Cynthia quietly,"just some stuff between us." Cynthia began to lazily swirl her spoon in and around her bowl as she returned to reflecting upon the rather unfortunate experience

"Cynthia" whispered Sumia softly, prompting the young woman to look towards, "did something happen today?"

Cynthia was overcome with an urgency to share everything that had happened that afternoon, but she hesitated before she could produce any words. Instead, she nodded her head softly.

"D'you want to talk about it?" Gaius asked politely. Sumia nodded, approving of her husband's proposal.

There was nothing more Cynthia could have wanted than to talk with her parents - to share all her doubts, worries and concerns. Unfortunately, the fear of embarrassment and humiliation prevented her from accepting their support.

Instead of rationalising, the young woman did what she what she always did when she felt anxious or unsure: ramble.

Adopting an exaggerated demeanour of confidence, Cynthia began to speak. "Nah, it's fine. _I'm_ fine. Thanks for your concern, but honestly, I'm fine. It's nothing, really. Everything's OK". She stood up from her seat anxiously. "Anyway, thanks for tea tonight, Mum. It was delicious as always. I'm just", she yawned exaggeratedly ,"I'm just gonna get an early night tonight. Yeah, I've had a pretty full on day. I'm just…I'm just gonna go to bed now."

"W-well, OK. B-but…are you sure you don't want to talk about anything, anything at all?" Sumia rose to her feet as well.

Upon seeing the expression of worry and fear on her mother's face, Cynthia's fabricated joyful demeanor softened into one of uneasiness and discomfort.

Cynthia responded nervously. "N-no, I'm fine, thank you. Honestly, I'm…fine."

As her mother extended a hand to retrieve her daughter's bowl, Cynthia reached for it. "N-no, it's alright, Mum. I've got this, I'll wash it."

To avoid their despondent gazes, Cynthia frantically made her way into the kitchen, anxiously turning the sink's nozzle tolet the warm water pour. After it reached an appropriate level, she plunged the dirty bowl into the water and began to scrub it vigorously."

"Cynthia?"

The young woman tensed. Sheobserved out of the corner of her eye as her mother slowly approached from behind, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. Slowly, Cynthia looked up into her mother's eyes and was greeted with a sympathetic expression.

"I can tell something is bothering you. Did something happen between you and Gerome today?"

Cynthia hastily averted her eyes with embarrassment. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded sorrowfully. Her posture softened upon feeling her mother gently rub her shoulder.

"I don't mean to sound like I'm prying", whispered Sumia, "and I understand if it's something private, but I just want you to know that your father and I are here for you if you ever wish to speak with somebody."

The usually charismatic, energetic Pegasus rider felt an uncomfortable stinging sensation develop behind her eyes. "I…I want to t-talk with you about it…but I can't..."

"Has something...unpleasant happened?"

Cynthia shook her head. "N-no, it's not really even that important…", she looked back to her mother sorrowfully, "it's just…it's kind of something…personal…and I don't really feel…"

She hesitated, and caught her breath. "…I…I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright", reassured her mother, "it's perfectly fine. I understand."

The young woman wiped her nose. "B-but I spoke to Severa and Noire about it today, and they were really supportive."

Cynthia watched intently as her mother smiled understandingly. "Alright, I won't pester you any further. It sounds like this is something only teenagers will understand. Would I be right in saying that?"

Cynthia nodded bashfully.

A gentle kiss was unexpectedly planted on cheek, prompting Cynthia to blush vibrantly. "I...I promise I'll stop pestering you about this" Sumia smiled warmly. "I'm very relieved to hear you've spoken with someone about this. It really _does_ help when you share your concerns. 'A problem shared is a problem halved'."

That particular expression was one Cynthia had been offered several times during her youth, and the more she analyse it, the clearer the message became.

Looking back to her mother, Cynthia smiled earnestly. "Thanks, Mum. I…I'm sorry for lying to you and Dad before."

"It's quite alright. We both understand you're old enough to make your own choices now, and we'll let you handle this situation for yourself. Just remember that your Father and I are always available if you ever want to talk."

Overwhelmed, Cynthia smiled appreciatively. "Alright" she whispered, "I will…I promise." Cynthia returned her attention to the sink but was stopped when her mother extended a hand.

" _I'll_ take care of this."

"...Thanks, Mum."

After wrapping her saturated hands around their waist, Cynthia bid her mother goodnight before slowly exiting the kitchen. Her father approached her, concerned as to why she was behaving so distressed. Cynthia didn't hesitate to constrict him in a powerful grip and reassuring she was feeling better.

After applying a light kiss, Cynthia bid him goodnight and began to make her upstairs to her bedroom. After taking one final glance down from the top of the stairs, she waved him goodbye and continued down the hallway.

 _A problem shared is a problem halved_.

She thought to herself reassuringly, and with that notion in mind, she opened the door to her bedroom, and quietly closed it behind her.


	5. You Are My Rock

Noire had never been very sociable, but her refrain from speaking was starting to concern Severa. The archer expressed the same demeanour Cynthia and Severa had become all too familiar with whenever their friend felt worried or conflicted.

"Hey", whispered Severa ,"are you alright? You've been awfully quiet."

Noire turned to meet her and smiled gently. "Oh, yes. I'm fine, thank you."

Severa could tell by her friend's apprehensive tone that they were fabricating confidence. "Are you sure? You don't sound alright."

The red-head could see her friend's small smile visibly falter. "No, I'm quite alright. I'm just…" she yawned exaggeratedly, "I'm just tired."

Severa, however, was not convinced and continue to gaze intently. " _Are_ you alright?"

Noire sheepishly shook her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No" protested Noire, "it's…it's stupid…and childish. Honestly, I'm fine."

Tentatively, Severa reached over and grasped Noire's hand with her own, bringing the pair to a halt.

"Look" began Severa assertively, "I can tell you aren't feeling alright, OK? I just...I want to help. I promise I won't judge you. I don't like it when you bottle up your emotions like this."

After Severa released their hand, she waited, hopeful that her friend would accept the proposal.

However, Noire stirred uncomfortably and whispered. "I…I can't tell you."

"Please? Why not?"

"It's…it's embarrassing."

"Oh, c'mon, it can't be that bad."

"Well, it is for me!"

Severa felt a sudden wave distress envelop her as she processed what Noire was insinuating.

"Is this about…?"

The archer watched as the mercenary's eyes migrated down to her own torso. Curious, Noire followed to inspect what she was referring to, and her heart skipped a beat.

Frantically, Noire covered the underside of her forearm. "Oh, goodness, no! No, it's…it's nothing...it's not about that at all!"

"Are you sure, because of it is…"

"No! It's not. I promise it's got nothing to do with _that."_

Sensing the honesty in her friend's tone, Severa. nodded understandingly. "OK, I believe you. I'm sorry for bringing that up. It's just...I was scared for a moment. I didn't mean to…stir up bad memories."

Noire's lips trembled as she summoned a comforting smile. "No, it's alright. I understand your concern, but I assure you: what I was thinking about is something completely different."

Upon seeing the young woman's weak smile, Severa adopted one as well. "…Alright."

Another moment of silence overcame the two as they slowly began to continue down the path, neither one prepared to speak with the other.

"…I'm sorry" whispered Noire after a moment of reluctance.

Severa waved dismissively. "It's fine."

"I wasn't thinking about anything…unpleasant. I was just...honestly, I don't even know why I was worried about it."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it, because if you do…"

Sighing with defeat, Noire acknowledged. "...OK."

Upon hearing this, Severa gently nudged her. "I'm all ears."

Noire smiled appreciatively, and returned her gaze to her folded hands. "I really don't know why I was so distressed. It's…not even important."

"…OK?"

"But when we were talking about Cynthia and Gerome…I…"

"Are you…still worried about her?"

"No. Wait, I mean yes, I _am,_ but I wasn't thinking about _her_ …specifically."

Severa became concerned over Noire and what her friend was struggling to express. After reflecting on their afternoon together, Severa's arrived at a possibility conclusion.

"Is this about we said...about you?"

Slowly, Noire turned back and, with the flustered cheeks, nodded.

Severa sighed remorsefully. "Look, I'm sorry about that. Cynthia... _we_ didn't mean say that. We were just trying to say that you...actually, I don't what we were trying to say, but we weren't trying to offend you."

Noire shook her head. "I understood what you meant, and I'm not upset with either of you. I don't even know why it bothered me."

"Well, it shouldn't, 'cause you're not the only without 'romantic experience' here."

"…W-what do you mean?"

Severa scoffed jokingly. " _What do I mean_? Look at me and Cynthia! Do you think either of us know anything when it comes to relationships? Of course not. Hell, why do you think Cynthia came to _us_ for help? Do you really think she would have done that if she felt confident? Honestly, she's just as clueless as we are."

The archer averted her eyes. Severa placed a hand on their shoulder.

"The truth is: none of us have any experience with boys, least of all: me. Gods, I don't know the first thing about having a boyfriend. I wouldn't know whether to hold him or to hurt him."

A small smile emerged on Noire's lips. "I suppose you're right." Her despondent expression returned. "It's just...I'm turning eighteen soon…and I've never…"

"...You've never been with someone before?"

The archer nodded sorrowfully. "Or kissed, or been on a date…or-"

Severa laughed softly. "Are you seriously upset about that? Guys aren't exactly throwing themselves at me either…or Cynthia."

"I know...I'm so ungrateful. I'm sorry. I understand you two have your own issues, and I don't mean..."

She sighed bitterly. "I must sound so selfish. I just…I just can't help feeling a little…unworthy…and undeserving."

"Unworthy? Why?" Severa asked uncertainly.

"W-well, you two are so...you and Cynthia are both just", she sighed with exasperation, "…I don't know _why_ I feel so jealous of you."

"Why would you ever have to feel jealous of us?"

"Because I'm not like you two! I'm not talented...or beautiful like you two. I'm weak…and pathetic…and helpless."

Having heard enough of her friend speak so unforgivingly of herself, Severa hastily stepped in front of her, bringing them to a crawl.

Noire felt the heat rise to her cheeks, startled by her friend's sudden gesture.

"Stop this, OK? You need to stop speaking about yourself that way. Just because you've never had a boyfriend before does not mean you're destined to spend your life alone. You know what Cynthia would say if she were here, and she'd tell you the same thing. You're overreacting."

Noire's lips bubbled as she buried her face in her palms, remorseful.

Desperately, Severa extended a hand. "No, I...I didn't mean to raise my voice. It's just Cynthia and I hate it when you speak about yourself this way. There is _nothing_ wrong with you."

Noire looked up with misty eyes. "I-I'm s-sorry."

Conflicted, Severa reached out and grabbed one of Noire's hand, squeezing it softly. The archer's tearful sniffling ceased almost immediately.

"So what if you've never been with a guy before? There's nothing wrong with that. It just means", Severa eyes widened , "it just means you haven't found _him_ yet."

"Who?"

Severa smiled excitedly. " _Him_. The perfect guy just for you. Just because you haven't met him yet doesn't mean you never will. He's out there waiting, you just haven't met him yet."

Although Severa was relieved to feel her friend's tense posture soften, their despondent expression remained. "Thank you, but I seriously doubt any boy would ever want to be with someone like _me."_

"Well, I don't believe that! I'll bet he's out there right now thinking about you. I promise you one day one of these idiots around us is going to open his thick, clueless eyes and finally realise just how wonderful you really are."

A hopeful smile appeared. "Do…do you really think so?"

"Hell _yes_ , I think so, and when you meet him, he's gonna be perfect." She began to list their qualities on her fingers. "He's gonna be handsome, he's gonna be strong and tall and rich and funny, and he's gonna shower you with flowers and chocolate twenty-four seven."

Noire smiled with amusement. "I'm trying to think a little more practically. Besides…", she laughed softy, "… _those_ aren't the qualities _I'd_ really care about."

Severa smirked. "Well alright, how would you want _your_ ideal guy to be like?"

"I'd…I'd just like be with someone who accepts me for who I really am."

Severa blew a raspberry. "Two words: bor-ring."

"I'm serious" protested Noire, "I wouldn't care about his appearance, status, lineage or anything like that. I'd just wish I could meet someone who could love _me_ …even with all my flaws and insecurities."

The archer's poignant confession made Severa reflect differently on the situation. She'd known Noire since they were young, and at no point had she ever expressed any interest in pursuing a relationship with a male.

"How long have you felt like this?"

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Y'know, how long have you…wanted to have a boyfriend?"

Noire stirred uncomfortably. "I…I don't know - not for very long, I suppose? I don't even know if I _want_ a boyfriend, honestly. It's not...I'd _like_ one, but a relationship isn't something I really need. It's not important… at least compared to some of my other goals."

"But is it something you want? Would you like to be in a relationship?"

"...I've kind of lead myself to believe that it might not ever happen, and the sooner I accept that the better I will feel."

"Hey, come on! Don't say things like that. 'Never say never', or whatever it is. Look, the point is: just because you haven't been with a boy yet doesn't mean you never will. Have you spoken with your parents about this? They may be able to help."

Noire shook her head desperately. "Oh, no! Oh, goodness, no. I c-could never talk to them about this! I…I don't know how they'd react." Noire brought her hands to her lips. "Oh, Mother, she'd be devastated, most certainly."

"You don't _know_ that. Isn't your Dad obsessed with romance and all that lovey-dovey rubbish?"

Noire nodded. "W-well, yes, but I don't think I should approach them about this…"

"Why not? They're your parents, they know what's."

"I know, and I love them so much." She wiped her eye with her sleeve. "B-but they've already ventured through Hell and back trying to deal with me and my selfish actions."

Severa opened her mouth to object, but nothing emerged. Shameful and embarrassed, the mercenary averted her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel worse."

"It's OK" responded Noire sincerely, "I…I greatly appreciate your care and support - you and Cynthia."

Severa too began to smile, relieved to hear that her friend was feeling better. "Same. Although, I _really_ do think you should try speaking to your parents. If there _are_ two people we know with real 'romantic experience', it's definitely them. They'd probably know better than anyone else."

"I suppose…", she sighed after a moment of concentration, "I suppose I could try speaking with Father. He _may_ understand, but I don't believe Mother will."

"Alright, you do that" responded Severa encouragingly. She gestured towards the footpath with her hand. "Shall we?"

Noire acknowledged, and the two continued their journey home. After a brief moment of silence, Severa was treated to soft giggle from her best friend.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Oh, sorry. I was…I was just thinking about what you said earlier - about how you described your ideal boyfriend like. I…I just imagined what it would be like - to be with someone like that."

Upon seeing her friend's cheerful expression, Severa adopted one as well. "Yeah, wouldn't that be great? He could just lift you up and carry you everywhere on one of his enormous biceps. Gods, that would be heaven."


	6. Fragile

"Goodnight. Love 'ya."

"…I love you, too".

Noire watched as her Severa slowly disappeared further into the distance. After a few more seconds, the young woman was no longer.

 _I love you, too…Severa._

Sighing softly, Noire gently opened the gate and closed it behind her as she ventured inside.

Noire's nostrils were graced with an intoxicating aroma emerging from the kitchen as she continued. Upon taking a short moment to inspect the room, she observed her mother in the kitchen.

The dark mage turned her head. "Is that you, Noire?"

Noire stiffened slightly from her mother's unexpected announcement. "Yes, Mother, I…I'm home now."

"Tea will be ready shortly."

Noire acknowledged with her hands folded over her waist.

"It smells…really nice, Mother."

Tharja exchanged a glance between the boiling pot and her daughter. "I've prepared this dozens of times."

Noire hung her head. "Oh…s-sorry…I just thought…"

"It's alright, dear" answered Tharja, "I appreciate your comments. It's reassuring to hear that you still enjoy my cooking after all these years."

"I always have."

Tharja adopted a smirk. "I know, so I can expect you to have more than one serving tonight."

Noire acknowledged nod of her head.

Tharja responded, "good", and then returned to the stove.

"D-do you need any help?" Noire asked hopefully.

"Hmm" mused Tharja, "if you'd be so kind as to arrange the table for me, I'd very much appreciate it. I'm rather occupied here."

Noire smiled sincerely and nodded with affirmation. "O-of course."

Noire eagerly approached the draws and cupboards located in the kitchen to retrieve the items and utensils they would need for the meal, and returned to the dining table to arrange them sensibly by each designated seat.

"You left quite urgently this afternoon. Is there something your father and I should be concerned about?"

Noire laughed nervously. "Oh…no, Mother. Everything is quite alright…and I'm fine, thank you. I was just…Severa and I were invited to Cynthia's house. She just…she just needed someone to speak with."

"Has something happened?"

"No, she's fine…but she", Noire sighed sorrowfully, "she's just had a bit of a rough day."

"I can't imagine that child ever feeling down about herself – someone as optimistic and charismatic as her shouldn't have to".

Noire nodded. "I know…but today she just…had a falling out with someone…and she really wanted to speak with Severa and I about it."

Tharja furrowed her eyes. "Is she in trouble?"

"No…but she's really concerned that she may have upset someone very dear to her."

Tharja took a step towards her with a serious expression. "Noire, I hope she hasn't done anything to upset you."

Noire's eyes widened. "Oh, heavens, no. She and I haven't at all, and it's not Severa either. It's…it's somebody completely different."

"Someone I'm acquainted with?"

Noire bit her lip. "Are you familiar with…Miss Cherche's son? Gerome?"

"The wyvern trainer?"

Noire nodded.

"I didn't they they were acquainted with one another".

Noire shrugged bashfully. "W-well…they aren't really – I mean – they used to be when they were younger." She folded her hands politely. "Cynthia really admires Gerome, and she has her heart set on rekindling their friendship…but after today, she's afraid she might have done something to upset him."

"When you say 'something to upset him', what do you mean by that? What exactly has she done that's causing her distress?"

Noire looked at her mother with a despondent expression. "I…made a promise to her that I wouldn't share it with anybody else. I'm sorry, Mother."

Tharja sighed with defeat. "Very well, I understand. This is something personal, and I apologise for prying."

Returning her attention, Noire smiled appreciatively. Before she could thank her mother for understanding, the young woman observed as a small, fascinated smile emerged on the dark mage's lips.

"Please excuse me for being so intrusive, but I'm just…curious. Cynthia's admiration for the young man - it wouldn't happen to be romantic fascination, would it?"

Noire confirmed.

Tharja raised an eyebrow. "How exciting. And just how passionate _is_ your friend about this gentleman?"

Noire was beginning to become a little concerned with just how enthusiastic her mother becoming. Still, she too shared the same level of excitement. "She likes him very much" replied Noire with an eager smile, but upon concluding, her despondent expression returned. "But I'm not so sure he feels the same about her…and Severa doesn't either. When Cynthia spoke with she expressed a lot of doubt and uncertainty. She didn't know what she should do next…so she asked Severa and I for help.

"And…what did you suggest?"

"I don't know, honestly. I wasn't prepared for such a question, and I couldn't think of anything to say. I just…I just don't know want I should do. Cynthia – she's always been there for me, no matter what has happened, and here I am in a position where she needs my help and I couldn't provide any". She sighed deeply. "I…I feel so useless."

Had Noire had been watching her mother, she would have observed a mischievous smile. " _You_ might not be able to but perhaps _I_ could extend a helping hand?"

Noire was startled to see her mother's notorious sinister smile - one she hadn't witnessed in some time. Whatever her mother was insinuating, it wasn't pleasant.

"W-what do you mean?"

Tharja's smile widened. "You say Cynthia wants to capture this gentleman's attention, correct?"

Noire nodded hesitantly.

Excitedly, Tharja brought her hands together. "Well, as it just so happens, I may know of a special ritual, an enchantment spell of sorts - one in which will be perfect for your friend."

Noire swallowed anxiously. "OK?"

The dark mage snickered delightfully. "Ooh, yes. Once this incantation has been performed, that boy will be powerless to resist her." She brought a finger to her lips. "I have all the resources here. All I'll need is a sample of their blood to conduct the…"

Upon hearing that, Noire protested desperately. "Oh goodness, Mother. Please, no. That won't be necessary", she swallowed anxiously, "b-because Severa and I have already tried to help her."

Tharja's mischievous expression disappeared. "Really? And what did the two of you suggest?"

Noire brought her hands to her waist once more. "W-well, we said that…that she should just try being herself - be polite and welcoming - and I think she accepted our proposal."

Waiting expectantly, Noire was eventually treated to her mother's impish smile. "How boring" she teased before returning to the stove.

Relieved that she had avoided a potential disaster, Noire brought a hand to caress her cheek. While she still felt regretful for sharing Cynthia's private affairs (and she was even more unnerved by her mother's disturbing proposal), Noire experienced an unusual sense of reassurance from her mother's commitment to assisting the Pegasus rider. While her methods may have been unorthodox, her intentions were positive, and Noire found that very relieving.

Curiously, Noire began to reevaluate the situation. If her mother had been so captivated by the prospect of her friend pursuing a relationship, perhaps she would share the same level of commitment about her daughter. Still, there was the unspoken possibility she could overreact if Noire approached her about the notions of relationships.

"You might want to try asking your father when he returns. He's an expert of sorts when it comes to affairs of the heart."

A small smile graced Noire's lips. Not only could she inquire further about Cynthia's situation with her father, but it would also be the perfect opportunity to share her own ambition as well.

"Do you know when he'll be home?"

Tharja scoffed with amusement. "Knowing _that_ man, any moment now."

Suddenly, the kitchen door flung open, revealing a tall gentleman with a basket in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. To the citizens of Ylisse and elsewhere, he was the former duke of Rosanne. To his family, he was a loving father and husband, respectively. And to everyone else, he was the eccentric archer, Virion.

Entering the house, he took a few steps before performing bowing gracefully. "Say my name and I shall appear within the blink of an eye."

Noire smiled in response. Tharja rolled her eyes.

"Ah, after a long, exhausting day of meetings, negotiations and other political jargon, there's nothing this man enjoys more than coming home to be with the two most important women in his life."

He approached his daughter and offered her the basket. "For you, my dear."

Noire peaked inside. It contained a selection of her favourite sweets and confectionaries.

"Thank you, Father" smiled Noire with a polite bow of her head.

Virion swiftly grabbed the bouquet of flowers and glided over to his wife. "And _these_ are for you, my sweet."

Tharja was not affected by the gesture. "This is the third bouquet this week. You're insistent displays of romantic theatrics wore out a long time ago."

Virion feigned a gasp of surprise and raised his hand over his chest in an exaggerated action of pain and anguish. "My dear, those brutal words pierce your husband's fragile heart. He only wishes to please the one he loves more than anything. Why, he would scale the tallest mountain or battle a million adversaries if it meant he could make her smile. Oh, why do you torment him so?"

"Keep _this_ up, and words won't be the only thing piercing your heart."

Virion swiftly grabbed her left hand and brought it to his lips, applying a passionate kiss to her knuckles. "Poised, honest and passionate as always, my love - don't ever change."

Before exiting the kitchen, he planted kiss on his daughter's cheek.

Noire grinned with embarrassment. "Father, could…I ask of you for some help with something?" She followed him into the other room.

With her family occupied elsewhere, Tharja retrieved the bouquet of flowers and eagerly inhaled the beautiful aroma before sighing contently, a loving smile gracing her lips and a passionate sensation burning her cheeks. Although she'd sooner die before anyone found out, she _never_ tired of her husband's romantic gestures.

"Of course, my dear. Your mother and I are always here if you need our support."

"I know, it's…just…" began Noire hesitantly, absentmindedly rubbing her arms, "I've just been a little…confused lately."

Her father turned to her with a comforting smile. "Is something troubling you?"

"It's…kind of embarrassing" replied Noire nervously.

"Well, I'm sure whatever _is_ bothering you can certainly be resolved with your mother and I. 'A problem shared is a problem halved', as my father used to say."

Upon hearing the mention of her mother, Noire's concerned expression returned.

"Your mother loves you more than life itself. Her ways of expressing her care are just often…unexpected. We love you, Noire. We both do."

A passionate graced her lips as Noire. "Thank you, Father. I love the both of you as well."

Virion gently wrapped his arms around her. "Now then - what perilous obstacle does my daughter require my guidance in overcoming? Has another fiendish monster decided to take shelter under your bed again?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing like that" she responded bashfully, "I've just…there's something I've been meaning to talk with you about…b-but I don't know how."

Her father adopted serious expression. "Is this about your Mother?"

"Oh, heavens, no, not at all! It's something different - something p-personal."

"Something private?"

Noire nodded softly.

Before either of them could continue, Tharja's voice called out from the kitchen announcing that tea was ready to be served.

After Virion acknowledged, the man turned back with courteous smile. "Your concern - is it something you wouldn't mind discussing as a family?"

The young woman shook her head bashfully. "I..I was hoping you and I could speak about it…in private?"

Noire returned her gaze to her father, and she was greeted with an forgiving nod. "I understand. If it's seclusion my daughter prefers, then I will not mind speaking in privacy. Perhaps, upstairs in your room after tea?"

"W-well…OK" whispered Noire timidly.

"Or, I have better idea" announced Virion excitedly, "why don't you accompany me to the markets tomorrow morning? There are a few affairs I must attend to - business that requires my attention - and I would be most delighted if my beautiful daughter accompanied me."

Noire brought her hands to her chest as. "OK" she replied breathlessly, "I'd…I'd love to. I...look forward to it."

"As do I." He gestured towards the kitchen. "We'd best return. Patience is not one of your mother's strongest qualities."

Smiling, Noire eagerly accompanied her father as butterflies of anticipation circled patterns in her stomach over the prospects of finally speaking with her parents about her troubling concern.


	7. Brave Face

"Mum, Dad, I'm home! What's for tea?"

No response.

Shrugging dismissively, Severa continued inside, still reflecting on everything she and Noire had exchanged.

 _I hope she experiences love one day - with someone who treats her well. She deserves to be happy. She deserves to be with someone who loves her who she really is._

 _…Someone who loves her for who she really is…_

She hadn't been exaggerating; boys weren't exactly throwing themselves at her either, and the only advances she had ever received were from Inigo and other males of his nature.

 _I guess that's what I kind of want as well - to be with someone like that._ _Somebody that could actually like me for me...in spite of all my problems._ _Someone that was like Yarne._

Severa shook her head to dispel the thought.

 _What!? C'mon, Severa. You and Yarne, seriously? He's an idiot. A fool. A coward. He was...that was, like, four years ago, why are you still thinking about that?!_

"Stupid Yarne."

The sound of two voices exchanging from the lounge room alerted her. Severa was relieved to hear her father, but the other voice didn't belong to her mother.

Severa's heart skipped when a figure suddenly emerged in front of her from the entrance.

"Oh, heavens, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Composing herself, Severa responded. "No, I'm…I'm fine, Mum."

Her mother suddenly enveloped her in a constricting grip. Tensing, Severa could only wait until her mother released.

Severa observed her mother adopted a serious expression. "It's getting late, Severa. I thought we negotiated a time I expected you home."

"Oh, come on, seriously!?"

"I want an explanation."

Severa resisted the urge to throw her arms up in frustration. The last thing she really wanted was to have another argument with her mother, especially since the two of them had been on equal terms for some time.

"Look" began Severa, "OK, I'm sorry I'm late. I know I said I was gonna be home earlier, but I promised Noire I'd walk her home."

Cordelia's demeanour softened. "…I didn't know Noire was with you."

"Yeah, well, now you do. _That's_ why I'm late - 'cause I was helping out a friend."

"Very well." Cordelia smiled softly, "I understand now. Thank you for walking her home, that was very mature of you."

Severa rolled her eyes.

"I don't mind at all if you're out at night with your friends – you're a young adult, and you're old enough to take responsibility – but from now on you are to inform either me or your Father about where you're going, and when we expect you home."

"...Whatever."

"Good. I…", she hesitated, "I don't mean to sound overbearing, but you're still young, and you're still our responsibility. Your Father and I would greatly appreciate if you accepted these conditions."

Severa noticed the honesty in her mother's soft tone and folded her arms begrudgingly. "Fine."

The sound of delightful cackling erupted from lounge room. Whoever was visiting was entertaining her father verily, ventured Severa.

"Is somebody over?"

"Yes."

"Someone I know?"

Cordelia began to make her way back though the doorway. "Severa, we have a visitor. Somebody who wishes to speak with _you_ personally."

Severa scoffed. "Oh, great, what have I done _this_ time?"

"You're not in trouble. We just", she closed her eyes, "this is really important for your Father and I so canI ask of you to please be polite and respectful?"

"Um…sure? Why wouldn't I be?"

Her mother gestured for her to follow. "Just…promise you won't overreact, please?"

Severa didn't have time to process her mother's unexpected request but as she entered the lounge room. It didn't take Severa any time at all the identify their visitor.

"Ha-ha, here she is" exclaimed her father, Henry, excitedly. "Severa, we have a special guest who has been _dying_ to meet you."

They smiled courteously. "Good evening, Severa. I don't believe you and I have ever been properly introduced."

Severa stared at their extended hand as if it were a foreign object. "What are _you_ doing here?"

The older man cleared his throat. "Well, your parents and I have known each other for some time now, but you and I have yet to become acquainted with one another so I must say it's been absolute pleasure to finally-"

"I know who you are, Robin, I'm not an idiot." Severa interjected, prompting a hushed whisper from her mother, and a request from her father to be respectful.

Robin acknowledged. "Right, of course. My apologies, I assumed you weren't quite familiar with me or my work. So…how are you, Severa, are you well?"

"You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Severa" whispered Cordelia, "that is no way to speak to a guest."

"No, it's quite alright" reassured Robin, "she has every right to be curious about my presence." He returned his attention. "Well, since you're familiar with me, I venture you're also familiar with my profession. Would I be right in suggesting that?"

"You're the one that works with Noire, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, that is true. Noire _is_ one of the patients I've worked with in the past."

A frightening thought infested her mind. "Is she in trouble?"

"Oh, goodness, no. Noire – I haven't had to see in her in almost a year now. She's doing very well from what I've been told by her parents."

Severa's posture softened. "...OK...but you still haven't told me why you're here."

She observed as Robin gestured towards Cordelia and Henry. "Perhaps it would be better if your parents explained?"

Severa stared at her parents expectantly, curious as to what Robin was insinuating.

Smiling sincerely, Cordelia stepped forth. "Severa, as you know, Robin a counsellor - someone who has experience working with young individuals like yourself."

Severa squinted her eyes. "Young individuals? What? You mean kids?"

"Not exactly" interjected Robin politely, "although that first statement is true. I mainly work with children and young adults - anybody and anyone aged between, say, five and twenty, sometimes even older."

"…OK? So…what, therapy?"

"Well, yes, sometimes but not every time. My main goal is to try and support those in need of counselling and psychological treatment. As a counsellor, it's my role and responsibility to be there for anyone and anybody who feels that they may be struggling with life. Does that make sense?"

"…Yeah, I guess?" Severa exchanged a confused and expectant look between her parents. "But what's this got to do with me?"

Cordelia's eyes affixed to the ground, and even though she couldn't see his eyes, Severa could still observe the uncharacteristic expression of doubt and concern.

Henry adopted a small, forced smile. "Severa. Your Mum and I got in contact with Robin - not because we think you're in serious danger - 'cause…"

He fell silent. Severa watched as her mother gently reassured him before turning her attention. "We thought it would be helpful if you had someone professional to speak to about any problems you may have."

Severa stared in astonishment. As she hastily exchanged frantic glances between her parents and Robin, an overwhelming amount of unpleasant and distressing emotions corrupted her mind.

"Wait, what? What do you mean 'problems'? What do you mean 'problems I may have'? What are you talking about?"

Cordelia smiled hopefully. "Severa, please. You've done absolutely nothing wrong."

"Oh, really? Then why have you lot organised for me to start seeing a counselor? Clearly I've done something to upset someone!"

"You haven't done anything, Severa" added Henry apprehensively, "and this isn't about what you think it is. We aren't upset with you, if that's what you're worried about. We only contacted Robin because…well, you…don't…"

Severa was desperate to hear what he had to share. "I _what_? I don't _what_? What is so wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you" reassured Cordelia, "and we haven't arranged anything as of yet. We wanted to wait until we could spoke with you personally before we confirmed anything."

" _Confirm_? Confirm what? Therapy?"

"If I may interject" spoke Robin politely, "I can vouch on behalf of your parents. They… _we_ haven't organised any counselling sessions. I understand you may have some reservations about this proposition, and you aren't expected to attend, no one here is forcing you."

As she continued to stare at each of the adults, her Severa was far too unstable to process and rationlise all the information she had received.

"Oh, I see. So at least I have a choice whether or not I want to attend the therapy that I _don't_ need. Gods, you guys have thought of everything, haven't you?"

"Severa, please…" spoke Cordelia desperately, "please just...you need to understand why we've invited Robin over tonight."

"What? So that he may try and persuade me?"

"I understand this is a lot to take in", Robin spoke softly, "but I want you to know that..."

"Shut up, you fool!"

The sound of the Pegasus Knight's foot stomping reverberated through the room. "Severa! That is enough! How _dare_ you speak to him that way?!"

The young red-head glared fiercely. "Why did you even arrange this little negotiation? If you don't think there's anything wrong with me, then why do you think I need therapy? If I'm as innocent as you claim to be, then why the hell do I need to start seeing a counsellor? What's wrong with me, Mother? What do you _think_ is wrong with me? What?!"

" _This!"_

Severa inspected her body. "What? What are you talking about?"

" _This"_ repeated Cordelia sternly, "your temper."

" _Excuse me_?"

"We contacted Robin today because we believe it would be very helpful if you had someone to speak with - someone you can express yourself more independently with. Your anger – you cannot control it. _This_ is why we were negotiating with Robin about counselling – so he may be able to support you."

Severa stared at her mother in disbelief as her eyes fought a war of artillery against the torrent of tears she was trying to resist. In all her life, she'd never heard her mother profess something like that. Severa watched as her mother's eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"Oh, gods, no! No, Severa! That's…I didn't mean it like that! That wasn't what I…"

"So _that's_ why? 'Cause you think I'm a problem child!?"

"No, I… _we_ don't think that at all. Severa, please…"

"So you think I'm some kind of deranged psychopath, is that it? You think I'll just explode at any moment? Do you think I have anger issues, Mum?"

"No, I don't…"

"Because I don't! I DON'T HAVE F***ING ANGER ISSUES!"

Severa's outburst brought the entire room to a deathly silence. Breathing frantically, her eyes slowly widened in as she processed what had just happened. Severa observed as eyes in the room were focused on her.

"…I-I'm…sorry" whispered Severa, struggling to choke out the words.

Her mother slowly extended her arms. "It's OK" she whispered softly.

"No!" Severa glared intently. "…I hate you."

Averting her eyes, Severa exchanged another glance between the two gentlemen in the room with the same expression before turning back to the doorway.

"Severa, please…I'm sorry…"

"J-just leave me alone."

* * *

Severa stood alone in her bedroom. Closing her eyes tightly, she experienced the urge to scream in anger and betrayal, but she had already exhausted any and all energy on her mother. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed.

The only noise present inside the walls became the sound of the young woman sobbing quietly to herself.


	8. When My Stars Come Out

"Noire, you must promise me you'll stay with your Father at all times."

"…I'm nearly eighteen, Mother."

" _I know_ , but that doesn't permit you to explore on your own accord."

Noire acknowledged. "I won't, I promise."

"I assure you, my love" added Virion,"nothing untoward will befall our daughter. So long as we are together today, we shall not leave each other's side."

Noire reaffirmed her father's statement with a smile, hoping very much her mother would bestow her approval.

After a moment of inactivity, Tharja sighed with defeat."Very well, I trust you."

After a short embrace, Noire bid her her mother farewell and followed her father towards the door.

"And Virion?"

The two azure-haired individuals turned to address the dark mage.

"If you _must_ insist on bringing me home something…", she adopted a sly smile and gently glided her index finger down his chest, "be sure that it's something we can _both_ enjoy together."

Virion brought her knuckles to his lips and applied a passionate kiss. "My only ambition in life is to please those I hold dear." He slowly migrated his arm around her waist, prompting her to bite her lip excitedly.

Noire elected to politey wait outside for them to finish.

* * *

Although she didn't quite understand as to why the post office was a venue on her father's agenda, Noire didn't want to be intrusive or, politely respecting her father's private affairs and reassured she would outside.

Noire watched as her father ascended the stairs and entered the post office. Approaching the building's wall, she gently leaned against it. In spit of her age and experience, Noire wasn't always secure with being by herself. Curiously, she surveyed the bustling crowds of market-goers. Occasionally, a wandering eye would meet her gaze, and she'd avert her eyes in embarrassment.

"Hey, what's going on, Noire?"

The young woman's entire body tensed. Desperately, Noire inspected the voice's origin.

"Woah, hey, you alright there? I didn't mean to scare 'ya."

Noire sighed with relief. "Oh, no, I'm quite alright, Brady. You gave me a bit of a startle." She smiled nervously.

"Yeah, sorry about that", the blonde apologised, "I probably should have announced myself a little more carefully, 'eh?"

Noire smiled softly. Unlike a lot of people she knew, Brady never spoke with her as if she was different or "special" person. He always spoke to her courteously, and that was a quality she deeply admired about him. Even though she had known him since youth, she couldn't quite describe their connection as a friendship, at least compared to her relationships with Severa and Cynthia. However, in spite of their dissimilarities, Noire still cherished his company.

"It's fine, really. It's so nice to see you again, Brady."

"Yeah, it's real good to see you, too. I was just walking by and saw 'ya standing over here on your lonesome and thought 'hey, I wonder Noire's been up to.' _So_...how're 'ya going?"

"I'm doing very well, thank you. How are you?"

The sixteen year old shrugged casually. "Ah, y'know, not too bad for a Sunday morning. I'm actually here with a couple'a mates. We just thought we'd take a bit of a sticky beak around today."

Oh, who have you come with?"

"Hey, _there_ he is!"

Noire observed cautiously as Brady sighed with exasperation. " _That_ would be them".

Two figures eagerly approached as the colours of dark brown and blue became increasingly visible. The brown-haired boy playfully smacked Brady behind the head. "You know, if you're gonna go running off on your own, you could at least tell us where 'ya going."

The visitor acknowledged her. "Oh, hoi there, Noire."

Noire smiled politely. "Good morning, Owain." Her eyes timidly migrated towards the other. "…Inigo."

The young prince of Ylisse was playfully caressing Brady's shoulders, much to the blonde's displeasure. "Typical little tyke, this one. We turn our backs on him for two seconds and he's already trying to capture the attention of an innocent, fair maiden."

"Oi, ease up, turbo, she ain't done nothing wrong."

Noire's pupils widened, surprised to hear how protective he was of her.

"Oh, settle, petal. I'm only teasing." He turned to her. "He's a bit precious, isn't he?"

Noire stiffened as Inigo gracefully approached her with a mischievous smirk. "I apologise for anything Brady may have done to offend you, Noire. Expressing himself emotionally isn't one of his strongest qualities."

"...Shut up."

"Please, you'll have to forgive him, Noire. Young Brady here doesn't have much experience interacting with the opposite sex. I hope he hasn't made too big of a fool of himself this morning. Tell me: just how successful has he been at trying to impress you?"

Even though she was fully aware of the playful banter the boys exchanged, Noire was not impressed with Inigo's attitude - humiliating Brady even though he had done no wrong. Suppressing the urge to unleash her emotions, Noire averted her eyes and whispered.

"He's still doing much better than _your_ efforts at trying to court women."

"Oooohhhh!"

As Brady and Owain erupted into laughter, Noire observed with satisfaction as Inigo shrunk with humiliation.

"Damn, she went there, _she went there_!"

"Like the mighty Odin above, she strikes like lightning!"

"Sit down, Inigo, sit the hell down!"

If there was one quality Noire inherited from her mother, it was definitely their dry wit, and myriad of insults and comebacks. Even though she strongly objected to confrontation, the occasional comment or remark always managed to escape her lips.

As they continued to pester and provoke their friend, Noire's satisfaction disappeared when she reflected on her hurtful remark.

"Oh, I'm s-sorry, Inigo. I…didn't mean."

Inigo smiled apologetically. "No, it's fine." He reassured bashfully, "I probably deserved that. I walked straight into _that_ one."

"I'm really sorry."

"Don't be, I overstepped my boundaries and received what I deserved. Let my actions today be an example for anybody who wishes to approach our Noire here: she's a beautiful rose with hidden thorns".

Inigo gently patted Brady on the shoulder. "I can see why Brady admires you so much."

Noire didn't have time to process the man's announcement as Brady suddenly retaliated. "Rack off, you idiot. Go chase after some skirts, why don't'cha?"

Inigo put his hands together. "Alright, alright, settle down, we're going. We'll leave you two to it then."

"Yeah, whatever" Brady huffed halfheartedly.

As the two gentlemen bid them farewell, Noire returned the gesture. After the two gentlemen took their leave, Noire observed Brady's expression of remorse.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout those two, they can get a little carried away sometimes. I'm real sorry for what Inigo said. It was totally uncalled for."

Noire shook her head. "It's fine, really. I know what he's like."

"Yeah, he's out there. Still, that was one savage burn. Damn, 'never thought I'd hear something like _that_ come from _you."_

Noire covered her mouth. "Oh, no. Do you…do you think I upset him?"

"Who, Inigo? Ha, wouldn't worry 'bout it. With the amount of times he's been rejected by girls, he's probably used to it by now."

Despite her guilty conscience, she was at least relieved to see that the younger boy was feeling better. Although still remorseful, she more occupied on deciphering what the Inigo had insinuated earlier. Curiously, she politely inquired further, hoping very much not to intrude.

"Brady?

"Yeah?"

"What Inigo said – is that true?"

"What, that you're a flower with thorns?"

Noire giggled softy. "No, not that…but…the other thing..."

"Which was…?"

Bashfully, Noire placed her hands over waist. "Do you _really_ …admire me?"

Noire observed as Brady's widened. "Oh, _that_ " he answered anxiously, "that was...yeah, nah, he was just, y'know, windin' me up. Yeah, that's…yeah that was nothin'. Don't worry 'bout it."

An unexpected feeling of disappointment overcame Noire as she sorrowfully accepted his explanation. "…I see."

"Wait…no, I didn't mean it like _that_. I'm not try'na say that I don't admire 'ya, 'cause the truth is: I kinda do."

A small thrill of excitement raced down Noire's spine. "R-really?" She asked hopefully, "why?"

Brady rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, you know, I just…I really admire 'ya and everything you do. I'm actually kinda envious of how confident you are…"

Noire scoffed halfheartedly. "Confident? That doesn't sound like me. Are you sure you haven't mistaken me for someone else?"

"I'm serious" he protested, "I know about the things you've done for people, Noire, and what you do for 'em is somethin' truly special. You're always putting other peoples' happiness and wellbein' before your own, and that's something I really respect about'cha. It's like for as long as I've known 'ya…you've always been the same caring and kind-hearted person, and I really admire you for that."

Noire couldn't even begin to process everything he had heard about her, and repeating the words in her mind only created more skittish butterflies flapping their wings excitedly in her stomach.

"D-do you really mean all that?"

Brady smiled sincerely. "Yeah, I do. I mean, you're unlike like anybody I've ever met before. You're really caring and compassionate, and just a great person to be around, 'ya know?"

Noire stared at the young man breathlessly as her heart raced excitedly in her chest. "Oh, g-goodness" she whispered, "nobody has ever said anything like that about me before."

"Oh, damn, sorry about that. I wasn't tryin' to - I just got a little carried away there. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh, no, you haven't at all." After composing herself to the best of her ability, Noire bowed politely with an appreciative smile. "Thank you. That was very sweet of you to say. You are too kind."

The young man smirked bashfully. "Nah, it's nothing, really. I just thought I should let'cha know that's how I feel about 'ya. Don't mention it." He pointed in mock accusation. "I'm serious, actually, don't _ever_ mention that again. I don't want people thinkin' I'm a big softy or nothin'. I've gotta reputation to uphold."

Noire smiled with delight. "Don't worry, I won't repeat it to anybody."

After an exchange of laughter, a session of silence graced them. Although they weren't speaking, Noire's infectiously delighted smile was still present over all the wonderfully heart-warming things he had to say about her.

"So" announced Brady dispelling the silence, "you never told me why you were standing here by yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not here alone", she corrected, "w-well, at least not for long. I'm just waiting for my Father. He'll be returning shortly."

"Oh, righto, I understand now. Guess you don't need me lingering around, huh?"

"Sorry?"

Brady sighed. "To tell 'ya the truth, the real reason I came over was…well, I was gonna see if you wanted to, y'know, hang out…or something? Just the two of us. Not like a date or nothing, but just as mates?"

A small smile spread across Noire's lips. "…Oh, I see."

"But it's alright, I don't mind. If you say your old man's gonna be out any minute now then I'll just have to take a raincheck. Are you and your dad pretty busy today?"

Anxiously, Noire shook her head. "Oh, no, that's not at all. I'm not...we aren't doing…"

She sighed with exhaustion to calm nerves before smiling warmly. "Brady…I would love to spend some time with you."

Brady's smiled hopefully. "Oh, really, you serious? That's…yeah, that's great." He hesitated before continuing. "So, you don't mind if I...wait here with you…just until your Dad gets back?"

Noire shook her head. "No, not at all. Please, you're more than welcome. I would love for you could keep me company. It's feels like far too long since you and I have spent time together."

The sixteen year old blonde acknowledged. "Yeah, it has, hasn't it?"

Eagerly, Noire watched as the young man migrated beside her to the available spot on the wall.

"So" he began casually, "what'cha been up to lately?"

Noire returned folded her hands over her waist. "Oh, nothing too exciting. How about you?"

"Ah, 'ya know, same 'ol, same 'ol..."


	9. Will You Fall For Me?

As the young man retrieved another bucket of water, Cynthia cautiously migrated from behind the tree to the stable's wooden door.

The support she had received from Severa and Noire was nothing short of inspirational and encouraging, but Cynthia still didn't quite understand what they meant by "just be yourself", considering her behaviour is what drove him away in the first place.

Cynthia sighed bitterly, thoroughly disappointed in herself for resorting to her old tactics to to pursue the man.

 _You're pathetic, you know that? Not only that, you're a liar as well! You promised them you would just speak with him politely, and yet here you are again - stalking him like a creeper from the shadows. And you wonder why he isn't very fond you…_

 _I can't do this. I should just go home and forget about this whole thing. He's already made it quite clear he doesn't want to hang out with you, so why on Earth would he ever fall in love with you?_

 _No, I can do this! I'm not giving up! I promised Severa and Noire I would! Just remember: y_ _ou're not here to impress him or make him laugh or anything, you're here to apologise, and to -_

"I know you're there, Cynthia, you can come out now."

Cynthia jolted with fear. Fabricating a polite, gentle smile, she tentatively extended her arm and waved comically before revealing her head, her torso and then finally her body. She was surprised (and relived) to see Gerome was still performing the same actions from before, unfased by her presence; even Minerva seemed disinterested.

"Wow, you're really good at this, aren't you? I was so sure I'd been sneakier this time."

"Why do you persist on following me everywhere?"

The usually charismatic woman shrunk with humiliation. "I don't! Look, I...I don't want you to think that I've been following you - because I don't mean to – it's just…it's just there's something I really need to speak with you about."

"My answer has not changed. If you're here to offer me the same proposal-"

"I'm not here to ask if you want to hang-out or anything like that…I'm here 'cause...the reason I came to you today-"

"If you aren't here on business, then I must ask you to leave-"

"I came here to apologise, OK!?"

Having let her impulse overwhelm her, Cynthia realise how she had reacted after observing him staring at her intenly.

"…I'm sorry" she whispered.

Averting her eyes in embarrassment, Cynthia elected to take the opportunity to properly share her thoughts with the young man while she had his attention.

"I'm sorry, Gerome, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for what I've done to you in the past, the way I treated you last week, and for everything I'm probably gonna do to upset you in the future. I'm just…I'm really sorry."

She fidgeted with her fingers anxiously. "What I did to you last time we spoke t was totally rude and and impolite. I _know_ how you prefer to be alone - I know that better than anyone else - and I should have just respected your privacy, but I didn't, and you didn't deserve that, not one bit."

Cynthia closed her eyes. "Ever since that day, I've felt awful, and I haven't been myself because I can't _be_ myself when I know I'm responsible for something bad - for upsetting some I care about." She stirred uncomfortably. "It's just...I've always really enjoyed spending time with you. I know you and I don't get along terribly well anymore, but I've always considered you a very dear friend, and I kinda lead myself to believe that you might want to you, you know, start again? I understand now _that's_ not the case."

She sighed remorsefully. "I don't expect you to accept my apology, and certainly not after how I've mistreated you, but I just I want you to know that I'm really sorry. I promise, from now I won't ever pester you again about 'hanging-out' or anything."

Before concluding, Cynthia she smiled hopefully. "I just hope we can still be friends…"

Although she'd wished she could have approached him more sensibly, she was relived with herself that she'd finally summoned the courage to apologise to him. With some reluctance, Cynthia sheepishly her hand to bid farewell, mouthing "goodbye" before turning and facing the gravel path.

"You shouldn't feel repentant, Cynthia."

Startled to hear a response, Cynthia turned to face him. "Sorry?"

The wyvern rider folded his arms. "Forgive me for my insensitivity, you didn't deserve to be subjected to that. If there is anyone that should feel remorseful for their actions - it's me."

Cynthia stared in disbelief. "I don't...what do you mean? _You_ haven't done anything wrong."

"Haven't I? During our encounters, I have berated and belittled you, and now I've committed an unfair and unjust accusation of you. I understand now you only had the best intentions in mind, and I apologise for treating you so cruelly."

"I...don't understand what you mean. Shouldn't you be upset with me and all? I have been _following_ you."

Gerome nodded. "Yes, but your intentions were purely positive and innocent, and I returned your hospitable gesture with bitterness and resentment. I apologise for how I've spoken to you."

A small but hopeful smile emerged on the young woman's face. "There's no... _you_ haven't done anything wrong. I'm not offended, and I don't blame you for anything. You had every right to be suspicious of me."

"That doesn't excuse my attitude."

Although she still felt shameful for monitoring, Cynthia experienced a feeling of relief and comfort from his honest words. "If it makes you feel any better", she spoke sincerely, "I wholesomely accept your apology." She hesitated. "If I'd known I would end up making _you_ feel miserable about yourself, I'd have never tried to approach you in the first place."

"I accept your apology, as well."

"Oh, really? That's…well, that's…that's great! I'm so relieved." She absentmindedly twirled a pigtail with her finger. "I was afraid you might...y'know? So you aren't mad at me?"

Gerome shook his head. "No, I forgive you."

In an effort to appear mature and sensible, she acknowledged with polite bow. "Thank you, I promise I won't ever try to bother you again. I'll leave you in peace."

Although it wasn't the solution she wanted to pursue, Cynthia was more than prepared respect the young man's privacy.

"Thank you, I very much appreciate that." Had Cynthia been taking note of his mannerisms more carefully, she may have noticed him cautiously scratch underneath his mask, but she was none the wiser to his reaction.

"…So…" she began casually, "does this mean that you and I are still… y'know…?" She gestured between the two of them, and Gerome nodded reassuringly. "Thanks, that's…that's great. I'm really happy to hear you say that."

Although she was infinitely relieved they were still on good terms, Cynthia still wasn't satisfied with her apology. "Sorry, that's not the only reason I wanted to speak with you today. I wanted to ask if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, and show you I'm sorry."

After moment of silence, the young man responded. "I don't follow."

"I was just wondering if you needed help with anything, like if there's something I could do to repay you."

"You are forgiven, Cynthia, you don't have to prove anything."

Cynthia pouted. "Oh, come on, there's gotta be at least _one_ little errand I can run, or chore I can do for you." She looked at him pleadingly. "Please? I feel really bad for how I've treated you."

As she waited expectantly for an answer, she was first treated to an audible sigh from the stoic gentleman.

"Please, I'll seriously do anything – you name it and I'll perform it."

No response.

Anxious, Cynthia began to ramble suggestions. "I could - I don't know - I could...take Minerva for a walk if you'd like, or polish your weapons.., or help collect some more buckets of water for you?" Upon concluding, Cynthia inspected one of the buckets beside her with confusion. "Hey, why _do_ you have so many buckets?"

"It's reaching the end of the week - Minerva needs to be washed and cleaned."

"Wait… _you_ wash her? All by yourself?"

Gerome furrowed his eyebrows. "Is that so unbelievable?"

Cynthia smiled politely. "Oh, no, of course not. It's just…couldn't she just, I don't know, take a dip in the lake or something?"

"And risk contaminating the drinking water?"

"Oh, right. Good point."

Suddenly, an eager smile emerged as she gestured between Gerome, his wyvern and the buckets of water.

"Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't I help you wash Minerva?"

"Excuse me?"

Cynthia eagerly approached him. "I want to help wash Minerva."

"No. I can't ask you to do something like that."

The young woman rolled her eyes playfully. "Well, duh, of course you aren't", she placed her hands on her hips confidently, "I'm volunteering."

Gerome exhaled deeply. "I appreciate the gesture but there's no need for you to submit yourself. Minerva is my companion and _my_ responsibility."

Displeased, Cynthia dropped her arms to her sides. "Oh, come on, don't be like that. I really want to help."

"I don't require your services."

Folding her arms, Cynthia looked at the young man seriously. "W-well, how long does it usually take for you to wash and clean her?"

Gerome averted his eyes. "That's irrelevant."

"Come on, tell me. How long does it usually take?"

She observed as scratched beneath his mask. "On average, anywhere between half and three quarters of an hour."

Satisfied, Cynthia raised her hands. "See? That sounds like a lot of effort. Now, just imagine how quickly you'd finish if you had someone to help – you could cut the time it takes in half!" She emphasised the statement with a slicing gesture of her hand. "It's like what Mum says: 'a problem shared is a problem halved.'"

"I can assure you, Cynthia, you don't need to try and redeem yourself for me."

Cynthia giggled softly. "I'm not doing this because I need to 'redeem myself' or anything like that, I really, genuinely want to help. Besides…", she migrated beside the wyvern and lovingly embraced its snout while speaking in a child-like voice, "Minervie-wervie doesn't mind if Cynthie-winthie gives her a wishy-washy, does she?"

The wyvern thumped its tail on ground excitedly and slathered her with its tongue, prompting Cynthia to laugh uncontrollably as she wiped off its saliva.

Cynthia turned back to her crush with a sincere expression. "Please? I just want to help, and I really want to make things right between us."

With a hopeful smile, Cynthia waited patiently and expectantly for the stoic young man to respond. After what felt like an eternity, the wyvern trainer sighed begrudgingly.

"…Very well then."

Squealing to herself excitedly, Cynthia contemplated running up to the wyvern rider and throwing her arms around him but resisted the urge. "Thank you, Gerome. I promise you won't regret this."

Gerome scoffed under his breath. "We shall see."

Cynthia elected not to pursue him about his comment and instead joyfully bounded over to the water faucet behind with an empty bucket in hand.

 _Oh my gods, oh my gods, OH MY GODS! Gerome, he actually accepted your help! Oh goodness this is a dream come true - we're are actually gonna spend time together! Just the two of us…oh, and Minerva too._

 _OK, Cynthia, be reasonable. This isn't a date or anything, you're just helping a friend out, and that's all you've ever wanted. OK, girl, you got your wish…NOW DON'T SCREW THIS UP!_

Cynthia retrieved the bucket of water and eagerly spun around. "OK, private Cynthia, reporting for duty" she announced cheerfully.

Her excited expression disappeared when she witnessed what she had done. The combined efforts of her momentum while swinging the bucket had caused a healthy amount of its contents to soak the man's boots.

"Oh, goodness, s-sorry about that! I just…", she laughed nervously, "I just got a little carried away."

Gerome exhaled with exhaustion. "Don't make me reconsider refusing your assistance."

After another nervous giggle, Cynthia joined the wyvern rider beside his companion with a passionate smile on her face and the handle to a half-empty bucket of water clutched tightly in her hand.


	10. Miscommunication

Retrieving another scoop, Cynthia eagerly indulged the frozen treat. "So, _I_ was thinking: to celebrate your eighteenth birthday, we should do something _really_ special!"

Noire turned curiously. "Oh...really? What did you have in mind?"

"I'm glad you asked." She smiled excitedly. "Alright, so picture this: October the seventh - your eighteenth birthday – the three of us go out for a night on the town, a real girls-night-out."

"A...night out? What does…what would that entail?"

"Oh, 'ya know, all the really good stuff! We'd get to dress ourselves, pick out some really beautiful clothing, have tea at a nice restaurant, maybe go to the lake or something – really do something special. So, what d'ya think?"

"…I don't know…"

"Hey, it's OK, it was just an idea. We don't have to if you don't want. I wasn't saying anything at all."

"No, it's…it's quite alright. I didn't mean to sound like I was objecting. An evening together…sounds really nice, and I'd love to spend my birthday with the two of you. It's just…", she hesitated ,"I don't want anybody going to the trouble of arranging something extraneous on my behalf."

"But we need to do something, it's your big 'one-eight'!"

"I _know,_ and I really do appreciate your suggestions. But as much as I'd like to experience an evening as you describe, if I'm being completely honest, I'd actually prefer a much more quiet and intimate celebration than your idea. …I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's OK. It was just another one of my many silly ideas." Cynthia smiled encouragingly. "It's _your_ birthday. We'll do whatever _you_ want to."

"…Thank you. I really would like to celebrate my birthday, but just…just nothing too extravagant."

Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, that's fine, I totally understand. We'll just have to think of something else; there's still, like, two months."

Noire nodded eagerly, "OK."

"Just think: in two months you'll be eighteen - you're gonna be taking your first steps into adulthood. Isn't that awesome?"

"…I know, I still cannot believe it myself."

"Hey, you'll be old enough to drink too."

"Oh g-goodness, I don't intend on pursuing that type of lifestyle. I've never even tried alcohol before."

"Well, _if_ we went out for our little 'girl's night' like I proposed, there's a great pub that Dad took me to on my eighteenth, and I-"

Noire interjected playfully. "Excuse me, but I will _not_ be consuming any alcoholic beverages on my birthday."

" _Fine_ " pouted Cynthia jokingly, "suit yourself. But I'm telling you, you're gonna be missing out."

"As… _tempting_ …as your offer may sound, I don't think it would be possible at all. I don't believe Mother and Father would approve of that kind of evening."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't they want you to enjoy your birthday?"

Noire stirred uncomfortably. "…I don't…well, I suppose they _would_. But still, they'd surely worry about my safety, and I really don't want to pressure them."

Cynthia acknowledged. "Yeah, I understand. Mum and Dad still get pretty worried about me."

"...Still, it would be really nice to dine in at a restaurant." Noire smiled excitedly.

"Yeah, how great would that be? Golly, just imagine the kind of fun the three of us would have together!" Cynthia addressed the red-head beside her, "what do _you_ think, Sev?"

For the better part of their time together, Severa had remained all but completely silent save a few short answers and gestures.

"Severa?"

Blinking frantically, Severa turned to address her friends. "What? Yeah, sure…whatever." She returned to the ground, completely unaware of what they were inquiring about.

Exchanging a worried expression between them, Cynthia and Noire inched themselves closer.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cynthia asked hopefully.

Severa exhaled. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" She hadn't meant to make her answer sound provocative, but she was struggling to maintain her composure.

"Are you sure? You've been awfully quiet today."

"I'm _fine_."

Cynthia recoiled slightly. "Well, if you say that you're alright…then…"

Noire whispered softly. "Is everything alright, Severa?"

Despite her intentions to remain silent, remorse developed in Severa's soul from seeing their disheartened expressions. "Look, I'm fine, honestly. Can we…can we please just drop this, OK?"

"…Well, we're always h-here…if you want to talk…"

Turing back to her friends, Severa observed the smiles featured on their faces. Cynthia nodded gently, reaffirming Noire's proposal.

"I don't want talk about it…"

"Are you sure?"

"It's not…look, it's irrelevant, OK? It's not important…it's…I'm just…"

"Did s-something happen?"

With her fingers drumming absentmindedly, Severa huffed, "…It's just my Mum."

Throughout their adolescence, Cynthia and Noire had come to know very well of the relationship between Severa and her mother. Tension and conflict often rose between the two red-heads, resulting in short periods of time where Severa resented her parent, despite Cordelia's best intentions. Although it wasn't any of their business, Noire and Cynthia were still always trying to support their friend during the times of dispute.

"…Did…did you two have a fight?"

The two women observed as the red-head stirred uncomfortably, visibly alarmed by Noire's question.

"D'you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. She's just…I just don't know why she does this?"

"Does what?"

Severa exhaled bitterly. "She's just doing that… _thing_ …again - where she thinks just because she's my parent or something, she knows what's best for me. She's trying to take control of my life, telling me what _she_ thinks I _should_ be doing rather than letting me live my own life, and I'm sick of it! She's pissing me off, and I'm tired of listening to her."

Both Cynthia and Noire were disheartened to hear Severa speak about her mother that way.

Cynthia broke the silence. "When did this take place?"

"Last week…right after I got back from walking you home, Noire."

The girl in question brought her hands to her mouth. "Oh, goodness, I…I didn't…did I get you into trouble?"

Severa turned back. "No. What happened…has nothing to do with _you_. You didn't get me into trouble, I wasn't…", she hesitated, "…I wasn't in trouble at all…"

"Then _what_ happened?"

Severa sighed deeply, finally prepared to share the experience. "W-well, for the most part I was fine that day – I got to spend time with you guys and we hung out and had some good laughs and all that - but soon as I got home..."

Noire and Cynthia listened attentively.

"Mum told me that we had a visitor over, and that I needed to be kind and respectful and all that rubbish. I thought they were gonna be family or somebody, so I went along with what Mum wanted…and I was _astonished_ to find Robin of all people in the lounge room."

Noire's pupils widened. "R-Robin? The…counsellor?"

"Yeah."

Cynthia blinked with confusion. "Wait…Robin came over to _your_ house? Not the other…what did he want? Are you in trouble?"

The red-head scoffed. "Right, get this. Well, _apparently_ my parents are concerned about my attitude and well-being, and have been considering counselling for me for whatever reason, so they got in contact with Robin that night so three of them could confirm everything with me before they announced anything."

Noire stared breathlessly. "…What did you say?"

" _What did I say_? I told them to piss off! _Counselling_? I don't need counselling!" Severa averted her eyes irritably.

"…Did you _really_ say that?"

Severa shook her with humiliation. "No. I didn't say _that_ exactly." The young woman's cheeks began to match her hair's colour. "…But I did tell Robin to 'shut up'. Mum got really angry at me…so then I got really angry at her, and I haven't spoken with her since."

"Are you going to try and make up with her?"

"No. Not unless _she_ apologises to _me_. She's the one who started the whole thing." She scoffed unapologetically, "I never want to speak with her again."

"Oh, come on, don't say things like that" Cynthia protested desperately, "she's your Mum, she was probably just worried about you."

Severa glared at her friend. "Don't try and defend her. She has no no reason to be worried about me. I'm eighteen now, I can take care of myself."

Cynthia was about to propose another suggestion but hesitated.

"…What did your parents advise counselling about?"

Both Severa and Cynthia focused their attention on the apprehensive young woman.

Noire hung her head. "…I'm sorry. I don't mean to be intrusive, and if you don't want to t-talk about it, I will respect your privacy. It's just…I have experiencing with counselling – I am an expert of sorts in this area – so for the very first time, it feels like I might actually be of help. I j-just wanted to know what it was your parents believed you needed…help with."

With some reluctance, Severa responded. "My temper."

Both Noire and Cynthia were disheartened to hear that. It went without saying that their friend's temper wasn't exactly one of her more admirable qualities. However, unlike a majority of people, Severa's attitude wasn't the least bit confronting, and had never once deterred them from deeply enjoying the red-head's company. She was still their very best friend.

Severa averted her eyes once more, humiliated for confessing.

"…He's really nice."

Severa turned her attention back to Noire. "Who's nice?"

"Robin – he's very kind."

"Right, OK? I…I don't doubt that, but what are you saying?"

Noire folded her hands politely. "He's unlike anyone I've ever spoken with. I…I remember when _my_ parents first proposed counselling for me. I was _very_ reluctant, because I didn't at all feel c-comfortable speaking with someone else who wasn't a close friend or family member…about my condition." A small smile emerged. "B-but with every session I spent with him, the more comfortable and became. He's welcoming, and nurturing…and just somebody I know I can trust."

"I can vouch on her behalf" announced Cynthia, "he's a really great listener."

"Y _ou've_ received counselling from him?"

Cynthia rubbed her arm uncomfortably. "W-well, really only just once, but it wasn't anything serious." Cynthia turned to Noire with a sorrowful expression, evidently remorseful for making the comparison, but Noire nodded understandingly.

"...I found it really difficult to accept when Grandma passed away, and while Mum and Dad were really supportive, I just…I didn't know what to do. That's when Mum got in contact with Robin for an afternoon session, and I just, "she shrugged her shoulders, "I just told him everything that was on my mind. I felt so much better after I got all that off my chest. He's a real help. He doesn't judge you or anything - he just knows what to say, and tells you what you can do try and feel better."

Noire nodded, reaffirming Cynthia's statement.

Rather than try and accept her friends' suggestions, the conflicted red-head's typical reputation for overreacting reawakened as Severa stared in disbelief. She couldn't begin to understand what they were trying to express.

"What are you...what are you trying to say!? Do you agree with my parents!? Are you saying I need counselling? Do you two think I need therapy!?"

Noire covered her mouth. "N-no, of c-course not…"

"Then what are you trying to tell me!?"

Cynthia stepped closer. "I'm – _we_ aren't trying to tell you anything."

"But you think I need therapy?"

The Pegasus Knight began to mirror Noire's demeanor. "We didn't saying like that, we don't think you-"

"Because I don't! I don't need therapy! I'm fine just the way I am!"

The red-head's eyes fell upon Noire who continued to stare with a frightened expression. "…I'm sorry. I…I just…I wasn't suggesting anything at all. But…"

Severa stared expectantly. "But _what_!?"

Noire recoiled in fear. "…I'm…I'm s-sorry, I was on-only going to s-say…if…if your parents are concerned…"

" _Who_ cares what my _parents_ think!?"

" _You_ should _"_ interjected Cynthia, "they're your parents, they know what's best for you."

Severa shook her head. " _What_? No they don't, they don't have any idea! Nobody knows me better than _me_ , and I'm perfectly fine just the way I am!"

"But they might not" replied Cynthia desperately, "and if they're concerned about your safety and well-being…"

Cynthia hesitated to continue after witnessing Severa's frustrated expression.

Severa couldn't even begin to fathom everything she had just heard. "I seriously cannot believe what I'm hearing. Of all the people in my life, I thought you two – _my best friends_ – would understand me!"

Both Severa and Cynthia were treated to an audible cry of anguish from the timid archer.

Turning back to her friend, Cynthia adopted a serious tone. "We're just trying to help."

"Help? _Help?_ Really? Now _that's_ rich! You two should just try minding your own business for a change!" Staring daggers at her friend, Severa scoffed unapologetically. "And you're in no position to be offering any help, Cynthia. You wouldn't dare make an advance without coming to _me_ first about your pathetic little crush!"

An unbearably painful sensation enveloped Cynthia. Rather than retaliate with a retort of her own, she was at a loss for words.

Cynthia wiped her eye. "... _That_ was uncalled for…"

Severa, however, scoffed. "Typical, you never could handle a dose of the truth."

Cynthia clenched her fists. "Yeah? Well at least _my_ mother and I don't hate each other!"

A sudden moment of silence enveloped the three young women. Breathing heavily, Cynthia's pupils widened in shock. "N-no, I didn't mean that…"

"So that's _what_ you really think!? I don't even know _why_ I talk with you two. I thought you were my friends!"

After one final bitter glare of heartache, Severa averted her tear-filled eyes and stormed away from them.

Cynthia and Noire extended their hands in a desperate plea to make her stay.

"N-no, wait, Severa…"

"DON'T TALK TO ME!"

Cynthia and Noire could only watch with fearful gazes as their friend hastily disappeared into the bustling market crowds.

As she continued to watch intently, Cynthia was treated to the sound of faint sobbing emitting as the young archer buried her face into her hands. Slowly, Cynthia offered a hand, and Noire desperately clung to her friend for support. Solemnly, Cynthia began to gently caress the back of the archer's head, hoping very much to soothe the young woman's emotions.


	11. I Can't Break It to My Heart

Cynthia rose to her knees when she heard the unexpected knock. Wiping her cheeks, her trembling hand grasped the doorknob.

A small, heartwarming smile from her mother was what she was greeted with. "May I come in?"

Cynthia wanted to refuse – the last thing she really wanted was her mother to find out about the afternoon's events – but her mother's gentle disposition was enough for the young woman to nod her head.

"You've been awfully quiet tonight. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Cynthia turned to her mother beside her on the bed and hastily turned away.

"I'm sorry" whispered Sumia, "I…I know I promised I wouldn't pry into her personal life, but I...I don't like seeing you like this. When you don't tell me what's happening, I can't help but feel that maybe _I've_ done something wrong. I understand if you don't feel comfortable sharing, but tonight you barely spoke a word, and we're just worried we mayhave done something to upset you."

Staring breathlessly, Cynthia shook her head anxiously.

"We're just a little scared; we both are. Yes, even your father, and he isn't scared of anything. Well, apart from vegetables."

Cynthia smiled weakly. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. We're not upset with you, if that's what you think. Are you sure there isn't anything you'd like to talk about?"

Still anxious and uncertain, Cynthia hesitated. "I _want_ to…but I just…"

"You don't know where to start?"

Sighing with defeat, Cynthia nodded solemnly.

"And there's nothing wrong with that." Sumia smiled hopefully. "Do you want me to play the guessing game?"

The suggestion was an exercise they hadn't performed in some time, but given the situation, it was one that couldn't have been more appropriate. Cynthia approved with a nod nod.

Sumia brought her hands together. "Right, then. Now, let me think... Is it about something recent?"

Bashfully, Cynthia nodded.

"Alright, we're getting somewhere. Something recent? Now, are you worried about somebody?"

Sighing, Cynthia acknowledged.

"Are you worried you might have done something wrong?"

Another torrent of tears was starting to develop as Cynthia hastily nodded.

"The person you think you've upset. Is it me or your Father?"

Sensing where her mother was going, Cynthia shook her head frantically.

"Oh, thank goodness. I'd led myself to believe you were upset with us. Sorry, I just needed to be certain."

After a smile was exchanged, Sumia resumed. "OK, so it's not me or your father, thank goodness. It's...not about Cherche and Stahl's son, is it? Are you still worried about that?"

Cynthia recoiled with humiliation. She had yet to confide in anybody about her crush save her friends, but she made her feelings quite clear, especially with her parents.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't…I know I'm not supposed to talk about that." She rubbed Cynthia's thigh. "That's a teenage problem, not one for a silly old woman like me."

An unsettling wave of emotions enveloped Cynthia as her mother began to approach the answer.

"OK, so it's not about me or Dad, and it isn't about the thing I'm not supposed to talk about. Is it something to do with one of your friends?"

Eyes widening, Cynthia's breathing came frantically.

"One of your friends? Noire? Severa?"

Cynthia nodded once more, knowing very well what was to come next.

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "Did you have a falling out?"

Having lost control of composure, Cynthia released a strangled "yes" before burying her face in her hands. The refrained emotions were fully released when she felt the gentle touch of her mother's hands, prompting her to clutch them tightly.

After what seemed like infinity, Cynthia composed some semblance of control. Cynthia resisted the urge to resume crying upon seeing her mother's warm, bitter-sweet smile.

"Would you mind sharing what happened? I may be able to help."

After emitting a deep and mournful sigh, Cynthia reluctantly began. "W-well, it happened this afternoon…"

* * *

Anxiously retrieving a tissue, Noire wiped her perpetually saturated eyes and lazily tossed the tissue over the side of her bed into the developing pile beneath her feet.

As Severa's heartbreaking words continued to echo, so did the vengeful and unforgiving voices Noire had become all too familiar with - their cruel, heartless words reverberating. Suppressing a scream, Noire clutched her ears, desperately hoping to dispel the voices.

The sound of the bedroom doorknob turning brought her back to rreality. In an instant, Noire's hand instinctively clutched her torso; she hadn't locked the door.

"Noire, tea is almost ready. Would you mind helping me with...Gods, Noire? What's...what's happened?"

Struggling to speak, Noire observed as her mother retrieved a discarded tissues from the pile. Staring breathlessly, Noire desperately raised her hands to object, knowing very well how her mother would react.

"…I'll get the medical kit..."

"No! No M-mother, please! It's not…it's not that, I'm fine! I…I haven't…please, M-mother!"

Noire gazed intently at her mother. "…I'm s-so sorry, M-mother" she whispered, "I…I never meant to sc-scare you. I...promise…I _swear_ I haven't…"

"Then _what_? What has brought _this_ on?"

Noire opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. Sniffling, the young woman retreated back to the bed and obscured her face with her hands.

"What's happened?"

Noire opened her eyes to address her mother standing before her with a fearful expression.

"Noire, _please_ " pleaded Tharja, "you _need_ to tell me."

"It's Severa…"

" _What has she done_?! That…that repulsive child - she will suffer for this!"

"N-no, Mother, it's not l-like that! She hasn't done anything", Noire hung her head, "…it's my fault…"

"…What?"

Noire observed as Tharja gently took a seat beside her. Almost instinctively, Noire receded away but hesitated when she felt her mother gently caress her shoulder.

"Please? Will you _please_ tell me what has happened? It…hurts me to see you like this."

Her mother's poignant words made Noire's lips tremble once more; she had never meant to frighten her.

"Severa…I've hurt her…"

"You've _what_?"

Once more, Noire shook her head anxiously, fearful and resistant to share the experience. However, her gaze shifted when she observed the genuine expression of fear and sorrow on her mother's face, a demeanor she hadn't seen in some time.

"Please tell me what's happened", whispered Tharja once more.

Although she was still incredibly reluctant, the last thing she truly wanted was to upset her mother any further than she had already done. How Noire wished her father was the one beside her – she ventured he would be much more comforting and understanding. But as she continued to gaze at her mother, her composure gradually returned.

"…OK, M-mother…"

* * *

"A-and then she stormed off, saying she 'doesn't want to talk with us' anymore. Noire - she was devastated. I've never s-seen her so upset before." She hung her head solemnly. "I…I tried to comforther, but nothing I said could stop her from crying."

"I see…"

Still reflecting on the afternoon's events, Cynthia scowled resentfully. "We were just trying to help, but then she flips out on us!" Cynthia stamped her feet angrily. "She's so stubborn!" Cynthia sighed with exhaustion. " _I_ may have deserved to be yelled at, but Noire didn't."

Her mother rubbed her shoulder gently. "You need to try and understand what Severa may be experiencing - counselling and therapy is a _very_ big development. You know what she's like, Cynthia, she's not like you or Noire – she's always had difficulty rationalising what she doesn't understand."

"That doesn't give her any excuse to yell at us. We we're just trying to help."

"No, you're right. It must have been awful to hear."

Cynthia nodded weakly.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Sumia released herself from the embrace, prompting Cynthia to turn.

Sumia's smiled weakly. "I wish there was something I could say to ease the pain. You know if I _could_ change this afternoon's events I _would,_ but I can't." She sighed softly. "I know it hurts, but moments like these are all a part of growing up. This…this sadness and regret you feel – it only reinforces how much Severa means to you; how important your friendship is."

Her mother's words were encouraging her to reflect differently on the experience. Cynthia hung her head.

"Hearing this makes me reflect upon my friendships in youth. We might have been very dear to one another, but that never exempted us from having disagreements and falling outs. We'd argue and dispute, and eventually reach periods where we wouldn't speak with each other for days. Those…moments weren't pleasant for anybody.""

"W-what did you when that happened?"

"I'd apologise", answered Sumia sincerely. "Whoever was responsible for the conflict was irrelevant. I'd always try to resolve the problem, because their friendship meant ever so much to me."

The notion of her mother experiencing abandonment and mistreatment was enough for Cynthia resume sobbing softly, prompting Sumia to cradle her again.

"I know nothing I say may be of any help, but I completely understand what you're experiencing, and it isn't a pleasant feeling at all. But if I were in your position again, I'd do everything I'm capable of to try and make things right."

"B-but she told me not to talk with her anymore."

Sumia laughed softly. "I _know_ she doesn't mean that. Severa is _nothing_ if not committed. She would never truly say that to you or Noire or anybody she cares about. It was probably a slip of the tongue."

Cynthia shook her head. "…I _can't_ talk with her."

" _Yes_ , you can. You're an adult now, and a true hero would never abandon their friends."

Smiling softly, Cynthia wiped any remaining tears and nodded confidently. "Al-alright, Mum. I'll…I'll do it. Severa – she…she may be a bit of a handful sometimes, but she's still my very best friend in the whole wide world, and I'd do anything for her."

Sumia smiled warmly. " _That's_ my girl."

* * *

"We t-tried to a-apologise, b-but she was already gone. She s-said she d-doesn't want to t-talk with us anymore."

"…I understand now…"

Still deeply remorseful, Noire hung her head. "…I'm s-so sorry…"

"You aren't at fault, Noire. You cannot blame yourself for this endeavor. You _know_ how notorious your friend is when it comes to overreacting."

"She ha-had every right to ye-yell at me. S-she expected support and un-understanding from me, b-but I didn't." The young woman erupted into tears once more. "I n-neglected my b-best friend, the one who has al-always been there for _me!_ I'm a terrible person. I deserve this."

" _No_ , you're overreacting." Tharja objected seriously. "You can't be held accountable for this afternoon's event, and neither can your friends – it was a simple misunderstanding."

Noire couldn't process her mother's reassurance, and instead buried her face once more.

"I don't understand why you feel so repentant, Noire, you've done nothing wrong."

"Yes, I have!"

Exhaling with exhaustion, Noire clutched her torso tightly. "…I w-was supposed to help. I should ha-have been the one to reassure her, b-but I didn't…", she sniffled audibly, "all I ever do is just makes things w-worse…"

While Noire hadn't expected a direct response, she was more concerned by the continued silence from her mother.

"I don't know what to say", whispered Tharja. "I can't even begin to imagine you're experiencing right now so forgive me for not providing the support you desire."

Disheartened by her mother's demeanor, Noire shook her head softly.

"How I wish there was an incantation or ritual I could perform to reverse today's events, but that isn't at all possible…" She turned to her daughter with a sincere expression. "But I believe everything in life – whether positive or not – happens for a reason, and this is no exception." She placed her hand on Noire's thigh. "What has happened… _has_ happened."

Noire stared breathlessly; curious as to what her mother was insinuating.

"If I were in your position, I would wait until the problem resolved itself. But you're not at all like me, Noire – you're a confident and compassionate young woman who would never let a fractured friendship deter her from doing what needs to be done, not for herself but for the benefit of others. I personally see no fault committed on your behalf, but do not take my word for it. I mightn't be able to understand what you're experiencing, but if you truly believe there is an issue to be resolved, I will wholesomely support your decision." Tharja smiled weakly. "I _know_ you'll make the right choice."

As her mother's beautiful words resonated, Noire experienced another torrent of tears developing, and hastily retrieved another tissue. Despite what appeared to be a worsening condition, her tears were initiated not because of guilt or remorse, but of contentment.

After exhausting herself of all the tears she could produce, Noire slowly released herself the dark mage's embrace, and composed herself to the best of her ability. "I w-will, M-mother" she announced confidently, "I…I will do what's right."

Her mother slowly brought a hand to her daughter's cheek to dry the tears - a gesture Noire accepted lovingly.

Tharja smiled proudly. " _That's_ my girl."


	12. Possessionless

The darkening beginning to eclipse the sun perfectly captured how Severa felt. Frowning, she hastily folded the curtain blinds and collapsed on to her bed.

For the better part of two whole days, the remorseful red-head had spent her time in solitude; isolated away from the rest of the world inside her bedroom – her one true sanctuary.

 _Stupid Cynthia. Stupid Noire._

Bringing a hand to her face, she wiped the developing tears.

 _…I don't need them! I never needed them! I'm a woman now, and I can make it on my own. If they really cared about me they wouldn't have said anything! Who cares what they think about me…they're just…_

 _…They're just my only friends…_

Severa retrieved the pillow beneath her and angrily threw at the curtains. As expected, it wasn't long before someone appeared outside her door.

"Severa, we really need to talk. _Please_ , may I come in? I need to-"

" _No_! This is all _your_ fault!"

"Severa…"

" _Go away_!"

Staring in the direction of the door, the sound of the soft footsteps slowly disappeared. Certain her mother had left, Severa angrily brought her fist down upon her leg. It was only after a few seconds did she acknowledge the pain. Severa didn't want to speak with her mother. She didn't want to speak with her father, and she certainly couldn't bring herself to speak with her friends - if she could even call them that anymore. For the first time in a long time, Severa felt completely alone.

"Why do I do _this_? I'm such an arse****."

What Severa wouldn't have sacrificed to try and reverse that day's outcome but she knew that was impossible; she had driven away her two very best friends, and was ultimately paying the price.

How she wished she could tell them that she's sorry but she realised that may not ever want to speak with her again. Was there anyone who would ever wish to speak with her?

A thought suddenly developed in her conscience. Perhaps there was _someone_ who would be willing to listen?

* * *

 _I can't believe I'm doing this._

Severa arrived outside her destination - a small cottage on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Despite her reluctance, she was desperate, and any chance for her to try and dissipate the grief and turmoil she was experiencing was an opportunity she didn't want to refute.

With some trepidation, Severa unlocked the front gate and approached the front door. Standing on the doorstep, she surveyed the surrounding to ensure nobody had witnessed her; what she was doing was incredibly composing herself, she gently knocked against the wooden door.

No response. Severa considered entering but elected not to; she didn't want to intrude.

Speculating nobody home, Severa was about to migrate back towards the front gate but hesitated when she heard the doorknob turn. She had prepared herself to approach the person she intended to see politely, but the being that answered the door was one she never anticipated.

"Oh…h-hey there, Severa. What's…uh…what's going on?"

Severa observed as the taguel's erect ears deflated. "Yarne."

She observed the rabbit-boy inspect the area. "What are…what are _you_ doing _here_?"

"Oh, y'know, none'ya." Severa folded her arms.

" _None'ya_?"

"Yeah, none'ya business!"

The heat immediately migrated to her cheeks when she witnessed the man she intended to see emerge behind Yarne. Severa averted her eyes.

"Oh, right…s-sorry…I didn't mean to...", Yarne hesitated, "so, anyway, thanks again for everything, Robin. I guess I'll…I'll see you next time."

The older gentleman bid him farewell, and Severa observed out of the corner of her gaze as Yarne stopped beside her.

"…It was nice to see you again, Severa."

"…Whatever."

Certain that the taguel had left, Severa truned her attention to Robin.

"Would I be impolite in asking what that was about?"

The red-head stared at the ground. "…We have history."

Robin acknowledged. "Right. Forgive me, I was just curious."

After a silence, Severa was eventually treated to an announcement.

"So, what can I do for you, Severa. How may I be of service?"

She stared at him expectantly. "Have a guess why I'm here."

"Sorry, I don't quite understand."

Severa rolled her eyes.

" _Oh_ , right" answered Robin, laughing timidly, "I think I get it now. Sorry, I just thought…", he cleared his throat, "do you want to speak about something?"

She nodded. "I know I never arranged an appointment or whatever, but I'm _desperate_ , OK? I've…I've done something really, _really_ awful, and I…", she hung her head, "I don't know what to do. If now isn't the right time, I'll come back later if you want."

Severa observed as Robin retrieved a pocket watch to inspect. "Well, I was about to retire for the day", he smiled supportively, "but if there _is_ something that's troubling you, I'd be more than happy to listen."

Touched by his acceptance, Severa mouthed "thank you."

* * *

"Step into my office."

Inspecting the inside of the room, Severa watched Robin take his seat behind the tabled situated in the middle of the room. Severa followed and sat down opposite him. As she continued to admire the room, Robin began to sort through a file of documents on the table before retrieving a scrapbook and pen.

"What are you doing?"

Robin smiled. "Sorry, for every new patient I work with I need a blank canvas to record their progress. Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared one in advance. Apologies, this won't take long."

He turned to her. "And your name is?"

" _What_?"

He laughed nervously. "Sorry, policies. I need to document your basic information before we commence."

Severa shook her head. "…Fine, whatever. Severa."

Robin began to record every answer she provided. "And your date of birth?"

"January 21st."

"Age?"

"Eighteen."

"And your parents' first names?"

"C'mon, you _know_ my parents!"

"The last question, I promise."

"...Cordelia and Henry."

"- and Henry." Robin gently tore the page and placed it among the other documents. He returned to Severa with an welcoming smile. "Now, what is it you would like to talk about?"

For once, she was at a loss for words; she was starting to regret approaching the man in the first place. A part of her was proud that she took the initiative to contact him, but the dominating part of her being was becoming increasingly more reluctant to speak. She'd always struggled to express herself, least of all with others she didn't know very well; the fact that she verbally assaulted the man in a prior encounter didn't help.

"There's no urgency" reassured Robin, "you're more than welcome to begin whenever you feel comfortable. I just certainly hope you haven't gone to all this effort over our last meeting together."

Although she _hadn't_ , the resentment she felt for her behaviour still remained. "…I'm really sorry about that."

"Don't be, you had every right to react like that."

"No, I didn't!" Severa interjected desperately. "I…I was a total monster that night, and I should not have spoke to you like that."

The older gentleman smiled warmly. "There's no need to apologise. If anything, it's _I_ who should be trying to reconcile. Your parents were very eager about pursuing my help, but it was _my_ suggestion to approach you about the appointments in person, not theirs. I imagine it must have been quite confronting to hear all that, and I deeply apologise. Your reaction wasn't unjustified. I _should_ not have intervened."

Severa stared in astonishment; she was totally unprepared to have received a confession like that. Although his gentle words relieved her, his earlier information still lingered with her.

"So…there _is_ something wrong with me?"

She watched curiously as Robin placed his items. "No, that isn't the case at all. This is something I'd like to establish right now - something I tell all my new patients: there is _nothing_ inherently wrong with you. You aren't here because you require critical psychological revaluation or anything. You're here simply because you need some guidance to better cope with a difficult quality in your life."

"I work with anywhere between five and ten young adults like yourself each week, sometimes even more - young men and women struggling with their own unique situations whether it be sorrow, loneliness, anxiety, self-loathing or even their sexual orientation, and you are no different. For you, your area for improvement is…"

Severa lowered her gaze. "…My anger…"

"And there's no reason to be ashamed of that. We all struggle with our emotions from time to time, you just need a little help to better understand and control it. You aren't the first young woman who's come to me for support with their anger, and you won't be the last – this is all just a part of growing up."

Severa couldn't even begin to understand what she was hearing. In all years, she never could have expected someone like him – someone she had already verbally assaulted - to try and defend her for her actions and behaviour. Repeating his words only provided her with greater relief and reassurance.

"So, you can _really_ fix me?"

"There is nothing _to_ fix – we're simply going to try some…readjustments, if that makes any sense?"

"Wait, so what are 'ya going to do? Give me some medicine or something?"

"Well, it's not that simple, I'm afraid." He laughed nervously. "How I wish I could just recite some special words with the wave of my hand and relieve my patients of their issues and insecurities, but I can't, and if even if I could it would not be the right thing to do. As a counsellor, it is my responsibility to guide and support you with anything you may believe you need to improve on. Together, we're going to try and brainstorm some suggestions – strategies and activities you may be able to employ into your routine."

Severa furrowed her eyebrows. "So…you're not _really_ a counselor? You're a strategist, aren't you?"

He shrugged bashfully. "Yes, well, I suppose that is another title for my profession. When I was the central tactician for the Sheppards, it was my duty to provide the army's soldiers and warriors with strategies to better ensure their safety and prosperity, and that's what I intend to do with you…albeit without so much violence and conflict."

His remark brought a smile to her lips. Although she still harboured reluctance, the explanation of his profession made her feel much better.

"OK, I think I kinda understand now."

Robin smiled supportively. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, Severa. You, like countless young adults across the world, just need a little support."

After concluding, he retrieved his items once again. "Now, would you feel at all comfortable sharing what is troubling you, or do you still require some time?"

Shaking her head softly, Severa composed herself. "No, I'm fine. I'll start now."

Robin politely gestured for her to continue, pencil ready in hand.

Severa cleared her throat. "Well, something happened a few days ago…"


	13. The River

"- and then I...I just lost control and exploded on them."

"And what happened after, might I ask?"

"I locked myself in my room and just…cried. I didn't come out of my room that night. I haven't left the house for the past weekend. All I've done is just sit in my room - hating myself."

She studied Robin's sympathetic expression. "I understand now. I'm sorry to have heard about this. Have you spoken with your Mother or Father?"

"No, I haven't spoken with my Mum since you last visited."

"Forgive me, I never intended for any of this to happen. Had I known I would have involuntarily caused this incident-"

"It's not _your_ fault, it's _mine_."

After a moment of inactivity, Severa observed as Robin retrieved his pencil again. "Are you seeing anybody right now? Are you sexually active?"

"What!? No!"

"Apologies." Robin raised his hand. "Do not misinterpret me. I didn't mean to suggest anything unpleasant."

Severa huffed. "Well, if you _must_ know, I've been single for the better part of my teenage years."

Robin documented the detail. "Sorry, that was a rather…inappropriate question. I really should have worded it better. I apologise, I just needed to see if there were any other important relationships in your life."

Severa elected not to pursue him about his intentions.

"Excuse me for diverting the subject, but I was hoping you might be able to inform me as to why you decided to approach me about this? Could you not speak with your parents?"

Severa stopped to process his question. "I couldn't talk with Mum or Dad about this. They wouldn't understand, and they'd be so…disappointed in me." She folded her arms. "Not that I care what Mum thinks. If they found out about what I did – about how I spoke to my friends – I know they'd…"

She hesitated, and fell silent.

"So why, if you don't mind me asking, did you decide to come to me? Is there not anyone else you can speak with?"

"…No. I don't know anybody else. I didn't know what to do, OK? I could have gone to my parents, but I know they'd never understand. I just…I just really wanted to, y'know…?"

"Talk with someone?"

She nodded. "I just want someone to understand."

" _I_ understand, and you have no reason to feel ashamed. I've spoken with hundreds of young adults just like yourself who struggle to speak and express themselves, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that." He smiled supportively. "You did the right thing coming to me. What you've done has taken remarkable strength and courage."

An unexpected thrill raced down Severa's spine from receiving such praise.

"Returning to the topic at hand, I'm curious: how long have you known your two friends?"

Severa blinked with confusion, startled to have received such a personal question. "I first met Cynthia and Noire when were just kids, and we've been best friends ever since."

"And would I be in right in saying the three of you have become quite close with one another?"

Severa nodded. "Yeah, we have."

"Forgive me, this is a rather…personal inquiry, but for the sake of this appointment, it's something I wish to know. You may refuse to answer if you don't feel comfortable. Why _do_ you believe you reacted the way you did?"

"…What do you mean?"

"Why _did_ you react that way?"

"You mean…why did I flip out?"

"Yes."

Staring uncertainly, Severa tried her best to process the unexpected question. "I…I don't know…"

"Well, perhaps I'll propose the question like _this_ : when you received the proposal for counselling from myself and your parents, I could evidently see you became quite…distressed. But if you don't mind me asking, what was it _specifically_ that upset you?"

Nervously, Severa hung her head. "…I don't know."

"It's alright" he reassured. "I understand this must be quite confronting you, and if you don't wish to continue we may talk about something else. But I believe we're making progress to try and resolve this situation."

"No, it's fine…it's just…I'm not very good at reflecting on my actions."

Robin smiled encouragingly. "And that's why I'm here to support you – together we may be able to find a solution."

Reassured by his calming words, Severa nodded for him to continue.

"Now, the evening when I visited – when you expressed your, excuse me, disinterest– how did you feel upon receiving that proposal?"

Severa stared incredulously. "How do _you_ think? You were there, remember?"

"Right, of course, but what I meant was 'what was it that evoked that sort of reaction'? Was it the suggestion itself, or the people who proposed it?"

Severa shrugged weakly. "I don't know. I guess…I hadn't expected to ever hear Mum or Dad say that they thought I needed counselling – like there was something about me they didn't like. When I heard them…it…"

"Hurt?"

"…Yeah."

"I hope you understand they were only concerned about your well-being they only want what's best for their daughter."

"I know, _I know._ I should have just listened to them, but I didn't. I overreacted, OK?"

"And with your friends, would I be right in saying it hurt to hear _them_ concur?"

Nodding, Severa bit her lip.

"And did it hurt even more to hear _them_ propose it rather than your parents?"

"…Yes…"

"And why might that be?"

"Oh, I don't know, _because they're my best friends_!?" Severa responded anxiously but quickly returned to whispering. "…I thought because they're my friends that they'd understand - that they'd see things from my perspective - that I didn't need counselling or therapy or anything, but they didn't."

Severa listened to the sound of Robin's pencil scribbling before he returned to her with a sympathetic expression.

"I can see your friends mean a great deal to you, and I'm sorry to have heard that you've had an incident of miscommunication. This experience the three of you have shared together is not uncommon – even the most cherished of friends will disagree with each other from time to time. It's been said that one cannot achieve a true understanding or appreciation for someone else unless they've come to accept their differences, and this experience only reinforces just how important your friendship means to one another…you especially. I _know_ you didn't mean what you said about them."

Remorsefully, Severa shook her head and continued to listen.

Robin paused before continuing. "…I understand what you heard must have been quite confronting, but if you want my thoughts on the matter, _I_ don't believe they ever intended to upset you or suggest there was a quality about you they disliked." He smiled gently. "What comes with a treasured friendship is a commitment towards one another, and I firmly believe your friends only had the best intentions in mind. Do you not think maybe, just like your parents, _they_ were concerned about your wellbeing as well?"

Staring breathlessly, Severa stopped to process his question, and doing so only evoked an unbearable wave of debilitating resentment and loathing.

"…I…I hadn't thought of it that way…"

Robin smiled sincerely. "I believe they were only thinking about what they could do to support their friend."

Releasing a strangled cry from her trembling lips, Severa angrily stomped her feet.

"Like I said before, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, and you shouldn't let a simple incident like this discourage you. I can assure you nobody thinks any lesser of you because of this – not I, your parents or your friends."

Severa scoffed unapologetically. "Yeah, I doubt _that_. I don't think I can call them my 'friends' anymore. They'll never want to speak with me again."

"Now, I _know_ that isn't true. I can see how much their friendship means to you, and if your bond with one another is as strong as I assume then I know _you_ mean just as dearly to them as they do to you." He sighed softly before removing his glasses. "I can vouch on _one_ of your friends' behalf. I remember when I used to work with Noire. Whenever the subject of friendships would arrive, she always spoke very highly of you."

"…She did?"

"Yes, she'd never hesitate to tell me what a wonderfully caring and compassionate friend you are, and how much your company means to her. If my memory serves me right, I do recall her describing one of her motivations in life – a reason for her to try and better herself - was for you and Cynthia."

"She said that about _me_?"

Robin nodded.

With resentment burning inside her like a raging furnace, Severa shut her eyes. "Gods, what do I do?" She asked the question rhetorically.

Robin, however, replied. "Well, it's not in my business to dictate what you should and shouldn't do so I'll let you decide what you believe you should do."

"…D'you think I should apologise?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, but if you truly wish to resolve this issue, apologising to your friends would be the most sensible and mature option."

Severa shook her head anxiously. "N-no…no, I can't…they'd never…"

" _Yes_ , you can."

Severa was greeted with a serious expression.

"Now, I understand approaching your friends may be quite confronting, but I _know_ you can. You may think yourself insensitive and impolite, but I can assure that nobody thinks of you that way. From the short time we have spent together, I've come to understand what a strong, compassionate and caring young woman you are - someone who should not let a simple moment of miscommunication dissuade her from trying to repair a fractured friendship."

Biting her trembling lip, Severa hastily retrieved another tissue; nobody, not even her family or friends, had ever said anything quite like that about her.

Steadying her breathing, Severa returned to him with what little confidence she could channel. "I…I _can_ apologise. No, I _will_ apologise!" She nodded assertively. "This is my fault. They were only trying to help me, and I treated them like dirt. I…I want to make things right. They're my best friends, and I don't know what I do without them."

Robin smiled. "I know you'll make the right choice."

* * *

"So, how do you feel now after you've shared all that with someone?"

To her surprise and astonishment, Severa felt a lot more relaxed and assured than when she had first arrived. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"I feel better actually."

Robin nodded. "I'm very pleased to hear that. I've always found it it's much more comforting to express your feelings with a third-party rather a close associate – to release that emotional baggage."

Severa acknowledged. "I don't have any money on me right now, but if you give me a few more days, I'll definitely scrounge up some cash-"

Robin raised a hand. "Please, there's no need. Consider this appointment free of charge as a way of expressing my sincerest apologies for how I confronted you last time we met. Though should you ever desire future appointments, I will have to charge."

"Do you really think I need more?"

Robin shook his head. "There's no urgency for you to return."

Severa saw no reason as to why she couldn't arrange future appointments. The time she had spent sharing her concerns was therapeutic, and there were still many things she wouldn't mind to talk about.

"I think I'm fine for now."

"Very well, though should you ever reconsider, I'm always here."

Severa smiled weakly.

A quick glance at the mounted clock signified just how long she had spent with the former tactician and, after confirming that there was nothing else of pivotal importance to discuss, Severa announced that she should return home. After being politely escorted back to the entrance by him, Severa turned to him.

"Look, you probably know pretty well by now that I'm not too good at expressing myself, but I just wanna say…thank you for listening."

"There's no need to thank me. It was my pleasure to see you this afternoon. Hopefully, I may be able to see you again some other time."

Severa studied his offered hand before apprehensively accepting it, and upon connecting the red-head's entire body stiffened. An unexpected euphoric sensation traveled down Severa's spine as she stared intently at the older man. It was as if time and space came to a halt for that single moment.

Blinking frantically, Severa hastily retracted her hand; she hadn't realised just how they'd been holding hands. Apologising, Severa said her goodbyes and bid him farewell, gently closing the door behind her.

Certain that she was alone, Severa stared incredulously at her hand, desperately trying to process that entire exchange.

 _What the hell was that about?_


	14. Heavy

Arriving outside her house, Severa should have been relieved to return home, but for that particular circumstance, confronting her parents was less than reassuring.

Unbeknownst to them, Severa had never actually informed either of her destination earlier; in fact, she didn't announce anything. Severa knew what she intended to do was incredibly humiliating so she exited the house via her bedroom window - a dangerous feat for most, but Severa had become an expert at leaving the house undetected.

Her father was out and would not return till after tea, and that thought comforted her; she instinctively knew he would be much more understanding. However, his absence would only make approaching her mother individually ever more difficult - the parent of the two she very much didn't want to see.

Approaching the front door, Severa summoned the utmost care to open and close it silently, and quietly made her way down the hallway. But, much to her disappointment and frustration, the one she desperately wanted to avoid emerged at the end of the hallway.

"Here we go."

"Where have you been?" Cordelia asked sternly.

" _Out_ , where d'ya think?"

"Evidently, what I want to know is _where_."

Severa rolled her eyes. "None of your business."

"It _is_ my business. You left the house without so much as word to me or your Father. You _know_ you aren't to leave without informing one of us."

Severa lowered her gaze. "It doesn't matter where I've been."

"It _does_ matter. You've been gone for hours. I won't ask again. Where have you been?"

Severa shook her head and hastily glided past the older woman,"…leave me alone", and ascended the stairs as her mother pursued.

"Don't walk away from me, Severa!"

Severa desperately avoid her mother's disapproving glare. "Why don't you just mind your own business!?"

" _You_ are _my_ business, and if you could just tell me where you've-"

"Just go away!"

Arriving outside her bedroom, Severa retreated inside and slammed the door behind her. But, as expected, her mother followed inside. Glaring daggers, Severa wanted to scream – to erupt on her mother and command to leave the room at once – but as she observed the same expression of anger, Severa fell silent.

"I have had enough of this, Severa! You are to tell what you have been doing for the past afternoon right now!"

"I was out, OK? Nothing more, nothing less!"

"That's not an answer I will accept."

Severa raised her hands provocatively. " Well, what _more_ do you wanna know? Why do you care so much where I've been anyway?"

"Because you're _my_ child and _my_ responsibility. How am I to know if you're safe and secure if you don't-"

"I can take care of myself! I'm an adult now, for God's sake!"

"No, you're not! You may be eighteen but you're still a child, and still far too young make it on your own."

Before Severa could retort, she observed as her mother brought a finger to her eyelid, sighing deeply.

"I don't have an issue with you wishing to leave the house _so long_ as you inform me or your father. You cannot just leave and wander the streets under your own accord. Don't you understand how dangerous that is? What if something were to happen to you?"

"I shouldn't have to tell you or Dad, I'm more than capable of looking after myself!"

"This isn't about your fighting abilities, _this_ is about your safety and protection."

"What, like when you proposed that I start seeing a counselor? Was _that_ for my 'safety' and 'protection' or for everybody else's, because I'm _such_ a loose cannon, aren't I, Mother? Gods, I'm off the rails!"

The young red-head could only watch as her mother stared in disbelief, evidently hurt.

"You _know_ your Father and I only approached Robin because we want what's best for our daughter – we would do _anything_ for you."

Severa rolled her eyes unapologetically. "Oh, that's cute, so you _do_ care about me? Gods, I feel all warm and fuzzy now!"

"How can you say that?" She whispered pleadingly. "Of course I care about you, you're my daughter."

"Yeah, and I wish I wasn't!"

As she witnessed the horrified expression on her mother's face, remorse and regret enveloped Severa.

"Why can't you just accept it that I'm not like you, Mum – I never have been and I never will – and the sooner you let me live my own life – let _me_ be _me_ – the sooner I'll…I'll leave…and you'll never have to see me again!"

Severa turned away, too disheartened to address them in the eyes.

After a moment of unbearable silence, her mother's soft voice reemerged. "Why can't you just tell me where you've been this afternoon, it's all I want to know."

" _Because_ , OK?" Severa spun around. "I can't, alright, I just…I just can't. Can we please just leave it at that?"

Severa stared intently, hoping ever so much her answer would suffice and convince the older woman; she was in no position to share her experience about counselling with Robin.

After baited anticipation, Cordelia nodded weakly. "…Very well. I won't pester you any further. But will you _please_ answer me this: are you in trouble? Is there anything me or your Father should be concerned about, because if you are you need to tell us so we may be able to help."

Severa shook her head. "No, 'course not. I'm fine, honestly."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes _, please_."

Cordelia nodded. " _That's_ all I need to know." After rubbing her arm uncomfortably, she whispered. "I'll leave you be now."

With dampened eyes, Severa could only watch as her mother slwoly approached the bedroom door before hesitating and turning back, a hurtful expression of deep contrite on her face.

"…I'm sorry", she whispered, "…I'm…I'm _trying_ to be a good parent, but…I..."

As the older woman fell silent, she reached for the doorknob.

With her heart beating furiously, Severa extended her hand and protested for her mother to stay. "No, Mother…!"

Severa waited desperately for the Pegasus Knight who slowly returned into the room with a concerned expression.

Rubbing her eyes, Severa stirred uncomfortably on the spot. "…I saw Robin today…"

"Sorry?"

"Robin – I went and spoke with him this afternoon."

Cordelia adopted a serious tone. "Severa, I really hope you didn't visit just to belittle him again."

"No! No, of course not! I'm not a complete b*tch. I didn't, honestly. I…I spoke with him like you wanted me to."

"What did you discuss?"

"Stuff - the things you and Dad talked about."

Having reluctantly finally shared the events of her afternoon, Severa's gaze was about to migrate back to her feet but refrained upon witnessing a small smile. A chill raced down her spine as her mother cradled her cheek, rubbing it softly.

"I'm so relieved to hear that. I'm…I'm ever so proud of you."

The young woman experienced another stinging sensation emerging from her eyelids; she was totally inexperienced with handling praise.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"B-because you hate me, and you think I'm a bastard child."

"I don't hate you" Cordelia whispered, "and I don't think there's anything at all wrong with you. I love you with all my heart and soul. I could not be more proud and delighted to see my beautiful child blossom into a strong, passionate and confident woman. _You_ are the reason I strive for perfection - so that one day I _may_ be able to become the mother you deserve."

Severa erupted into tears and buried herself into her mother's shoulder who proceeded to gently caress her back. In all her years, Severa had never heard her mother profess something like that - something she'd always secretly desired: approval and acceptance.

"…I'm sorry" whispered desperately, "I didn't m-mean those th-things!"

Cordelia cradled the young woman. "My Severa. My beautiful, beautiful Severa."


	15. Dear Life

Scraping the remaining mashed potato into the bin, Severa placed the plate on her bedside table and returned to her thoughts. That night marked the third evening in a row where she requested to eat in her room. Despite her parents' encouragement, she still couldn't summon the confidence to accept.

Although she had always been a night-owl, she elected to turn in early that night. As she began to undress, the sound of her bedroom door opening startled her, prompting her to desperately pull her shirt back over her head.

"Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry." Cordelia smiled nervously. "Sorry, the door was unlocked. I…I really should have knocked first." Gesturing towards the empty plate, Cordelia gingerly entered. "I'll dispose of this." She collected the item. "Was it enough? If you're still hungry I can always prepare more."

Still quite flustered, Severa shook her head. "…No thank you, I'm fine."

Nodding understandingly, Cordelia politely excused herself. "Are you getting ready for bed?"

"Yeah, I'm…I'm pretty tired." She fabricated the answer.

She observed a look of disappointment from her mother. "Oh, very well then…it's just", Cordelia gestured behind her, "there's somebody here to see you."

Severa furrowed her eyebrows. Who on Earth would wish to visit her at that hour? Her mind immediately migrated to Robin; she ventured he might want to discuss the appointment with her parents.

"Who is it?"

Cordelia smiled. "I think you'd best come and see for yourself."

Curious, Severa obliged and reluctantly joined her mother by the door, observing as Cordelia slowly opened the door. Severa had mentally prepared herself to expect the white-haired individual on the outside of her room, but instead what she witnessed were the two additional colours she never anticipated: orange and blue.

Severa's body tensed from the pair's unexpected appearance. Each of them greeted her with nervous smiles.

"…What are you guys doing here?"

Cynthia smiled uncertainly. "We've come to see you."

Noire, fidgeted with her hands. "…We really wish to speak with you."

Her friends' confessions made Severa avert her eyes toward her mother who had now migrated behind them. Cordelia nodded encouragingly.

"…I…", Severa stammered, "…alright." Reluctantly, she gestured them inside.

Cynthia and Noire smiled appreciatively and accompanied her.

Before any of the young women could communicate any further, Cordelia announced politely from behind them, "I'll leave you three to it then", before bidding them farewell and closing the door.

The tension and dread was palpable as Severa turned to address her visitors, both of whom looked equally uncertain. Avoiding their eyes, she approached her bed and sat down, observing as Cynthia and Noire retrieved chairs from the other side of the room.

Rubbing her hands anxiously, Severa retreated back into her mind for suggestions on how to approach the situation. She couldn't understand why she felt so confronted - they were her friends, after all.

"…Are you-"

"I'm-"

Severa was interrupted by the sound of Cynthia's voice; she too had intended to speak.

Flustered, Severa gestured politely. "You first."

"No, you. I heard you speak before me."

"I don't mind if you talk before me."

"But this is _your_ house, you should be able to speak first."

Before either woman could insist the other, another frail voice emerged. "…May I speak first?"

Severa and Cynthia turned to address their apprehensive friend, waiting for their approval. Surprised by her request, Severa nodded softly. Cynthia did so too.

Smiling appreciatively, Noire closed her eyes with a deep exhale and fidgeting hands.

"Severa, I'm so, _so_ very sorry for how I behaved towards you. I…I have not been a true friend. You came to m-me for support and guidance …and I did not return the gesture. I neglected and mistreated you…and you didn't d-deserve that at all." She lowered her head. "I completely understand if you don't wish to speak with me anymore. _I_ would not ever wish to associate with such a…rude…insensitive and hurtful person such as me."

Severa could only stare in disbelief from her friend's profession. She'd had become all too aware of how unforgiving her friend could be on herself, and it pained Severa even deeper to hear her once more.

"This isn't _your_ fault."

"Yeah, it's mine."

The red-head's attention turned to Cynthia.

"This is all _my_ fault" she whispered, "how can I call myself a hero – somebody who's supposed to support and protect those in need – if I can't even be there for my best friend in the whole world?" She closed her eyes. "…I…I said some really horrible things about you and your Mum, Severa…and I'm so sorry. I want you to know that I _never_ meant what I said…I just…", she hesitated, "I don't expect you to ever accept me as a friend again…and if you don't, then…then I'll respect your wishes: I'll stop talking with you."

Her voice trailed off into silence.

Severa exchanged a look of disbelief between her two visitors. Here they were - bleeding their hearts and souls through self-repentant apologies - when they'd done absolutely nothing wrong.

"I don't understand why you guys are apologising to _me_. _I_ was the one that flipped out. You guys haven't done anything at all."

"No, I have!" Cynthia interjected. "I said some really nasty things about you, and I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean those things, I swear that isn't how I feel! I just… _no_ …no, there's no excuse. I shouldn't have said those things." She sighed deeply. "I'm nothing but a bully."

The normally ecstatic and charismatic Pegasus Knight's despondent demeanour brought Severa to loathe herself even deeper; she really did hate to see her friend in such a state.

"I must apologise as well", continued Noire, "how I spoke to you was…unforgivable, and you did not deserve to be treated like that. I want you to know that I do not think of you that way at all, and I _never_ meant to in-insinuate there was an issue I had with you. I…I'm an awful person. All I do is make everyone miserable."

Cynthia hastily shifted her chair closer and began to caress her azure-haired friend's shoulder. Severa watched the display intently.

"This is all my fault", Severa whispered bitterly, "if I'd known that I'd end up making you two feel this way about yourselves…"

She shook her head. "You guys were right: there _is_ something wrong with me."

Cynthia protested. "No, there isn't! There's _nothing_ wrong with you! We don't think that all! We were-"

Despite their insistence, Severa knew herself better than anybody else; there were qualities of her that she instinctively knew weren't positive. Lost in thoughts, Severa hastily interrupted the orange-haired woman's pleading with a short but assertive whisper.

"…I saw Robin."

Severa observed their expressions of surprise and fear; she was beginning to regret sharing that detail.

"You did?" Noire asked hesitantly.

Severa nodded accordingly.

"When?"

"…A few days ago."

"What about?"

Having expected that very question, Severa gingerly gestured between them. " _This_."

"Oh dear…"

All the attention was suddenly directed towards Noire. "D-did…did you really have to consult him about how we treated you?"

"No…no, of course not!" Severa shook her head anxiously. " _That's_ …I…"

Biting her tongue, the red-head struggled to express the appropriate words. "I didn't approach him about _that_ … I spoke with him about the way _I_ treated _you_."

Out of her vision, she observed the pair exchange an expression between them before Cynthia pleaded.

"What? Why? We deserved _everything_ you said."

"No, you didn't!" Severa interjected anxiously, prompting the other to cease. "You guys did nothing wrong, OK? You were only trying to help - to speak with me about what I've been totally oblivious to for far too long now."

"What?"

Severa stirred uncomfortably, "…I _do_ need counselling."

"No, you don't -"

"Yes, _yes_ , I do!" Severa tried her best to suppress her developing emotions. "I…I always _have_. I…I just don't understand why it's taken me _so_ long to realise…that I'm…I'm not a good person. I just…I just really wished I could have done something about it…before…"

She fell silent.

" _That_ isn't true! You're not a bad person, not at all!"

Noire featured the same, worried demeanour as she shook her head. "…We love you for who _you_ are."

Their comforting words of reassurance did not resonate; somebody that verbally abuses their friends didn't deserve friendship or love, ventured Severa.

"How? Why? I seriously don't understand why you guys wanna associate with me? I'm not a good person! I'm…I'm selfish…and cruel…and all I do is treat you like dirt."

"You _don't_ , that's not true!" Cynthia interjected once more, placing a hand over her chest. "You're our best friend, and we love you."

Noire nodded pleadingly.

Severa buried her face in her hands. "…I don't deserve you guys."

"Oh, no! Please s-stop." Cynthia extended a hand. "Please, don't cry, Severa! 'Cause if you start crying then I'm gonna start crying!"

Severa shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"…You don't need to apologise."

"Yes, I do!"

Having let her emotions overwhelm her, Severa exclaimed with same ferociousness she had demonstrated during the incident. Steadying her breathing, Severa's cheeks mirrored her hair-colour as she surveyed their petrified expressions.

"I'm sorry."

With her direction affixed to the floor, Severa observed the pairs of feet opposite rise and migrate towards the bed, each taking a place beside her. Although she couldn't bring herself to address her friends, she could still feel their gazes.

"I'm sorry for everything", she whispered, "I'm sorry for everything I've done in the past and everything I've done now. I'm sorry that…whenever we're together it _always_ has to be about me. I'm…sorry for how horribly I treat you every time. I'm…I'm sorry for everything I've said about you."

Stifling a whimper, Severa watched as Cynthia's arm migrated around her shoulders, gently pulling them closer together.

"I…I don't have a lot of people I can call 'friends', and I totally understand why. Everyone else sees me for who I _really_ am: just…just a spoiled, stuck-up b*tch who doesn't care about anybody except herself."

Cynthia squeezed her friend tighter. "Please stop saying these things about yourself."

Noire's shook her head. "We don't think that of you."

Severa sighed with defeat. "Yeah, I _know_. You guys have always been there for me, and yet I _still_ treat you like rubbish."

Hastily, Severa wriggled herself from her friends' embraces.

"The truth is…you guys are my best friends - you mean everything to me - and I…I don't know what I'd do without you."

Closing her eyes, Severa prepared herself for the ridicule and teasing she deserved. But instead, she tentatively returned to them…and was greeted with the most heart-warming and apologetic smiles she'd ever received.

Severa couldn't bring herself to return the smile – not after everything she said about them – but instead acknowledged weakly. Curiously, she observed as Cynthia's typical smile returned as the Pegasus Knight gestured for her to wriggle closer. Complying, Severa accepted her hand.

Summoning the courage to speak, Severa whispered."I'm sorry."

Turning to Noire, she too wore the same sympathetic expression. "… _I'm_ sorry."

"Me too", added Cynthia squeezing her friend's hand.

The warmth and compassion pulsating through Severa's body was something she hadn't experienced quite before; her friend's beautiful words, gestures and professions continued to radiate within her, only causing her grateful smile to widen.

A small laugh emerged from beside her. Turning, she was curious to witness Noire smiling sheepishly.

"What? What is it?"

In response, Noire waved her hand apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I…I know I shouldn't be smiling…it's just…it's just I really didn't think you'd ever wish to speak with me again after how I treated you."

Mournful, Severa shook her head. "I'd _never_ do that. You're my best friend."

Noire nodded appreciatively. "..Thank you, I feel the same. I'm so happy we're all together again."

Severa heard Cynthia squeal softly with excitement, evidently sharing the same consensus.

"It's only been a few days" reminded Severa.

"I know, _I know_ ", answered Noire with a nervous laugh, "I'm overreacting, I know. But it _feels_ like it's been far too long. I've really missed you."

Severa returned the smile. "Same."

Anxiously, Cynthia chimed in. "Hey, what about me? Did you miss me too?"

"Maybe just a little." Severa teased.

Cynthia pouted exaggeratingly. "Oh, yeah? Well, I missed _you_ all the way to the moon and back!"

Anticipating that reaction, Severa smiled sincerely. "I missed _you_ too."

A sudden embrace confirmed that the Pegasus Knight shared her sentiments. After releasing herself from the young woman's constricting bind, Severa rubbed her cheek uncomfortably before speaking with uncertainty.

"Hey…do…do you guys think we could just…put this behind us? Like, pretend this never happened?"

Turning to Noire, she nodded approvingl. Cynthia, however, stared blankly.

"Pretend _what_ never happened?"

" _This_."

"What's _this_?"

Severa stared incredulously. " _This_ – our falling out."

Cynthia's eyebrows furrowed. "What _falling out_?"

Disbelieved, Severa shook her head. "What d'ya mean 'what falling out?' The falling out we had? The one a few days ago? The thing we've been talking about for the past twenty minutes?"

As Severa waited in anticipation, she observed as Cynthia poked her tongue out, deep in concentration before smiling ingenuously.

"Nope, I don't remember the three of us ever having a falling out."

Bewildered by her answers, Severa was about to protest when she witnessed a mischievous wink from the young woman. Stopping to process her words, Severa rolled her eyes.

"Yes, _very_ funny. 'Let's pretend it never happened.' Yep, hilarious."

Cynthia pouted. "I thought it was pretty funny."

Judging by the soft giggle emerging from beside them, Noire evidently enjoyed the exchange as well.

Severa smiled begrudgingly. "OK, maybe it was a _little_ funny."

A celebratory group embrace was proposed by Cynthia to properly denounce their disagreement and honour their cherished friendship. If it were any other occasion, Severa naturally wouldn't have hesitated to object; she knew very well Cynthia probably intended to kiss her. But after everything they had exchanged between one another, and their beautiful commitment to restoring the friendship, Severa welcomed the embrace wholesomely; in fact, she even applied a kiss to each of them.

Smiling passionately, Severa still couldn't express how eternally privileged and grateful she was to have come to know two extraordinary people. She couldn't be more thankful to call them her friends.


	16. Heart Hypnotic

Weaving in and out of the bustling crowds, a moment of relief was provided for Severa when Cynthia abruptly stopped in an empty clearing. The window of opportunity allowed Severa to compose herself from her exhaustion.

"Righto, where do we start?" Cynthia exclaimed excitedly.

"Settle down, party animal." Severa caught her breath. "We're in no real urgency. We have all day. And remember, we're working within a budget, so let's not get carried away."

Cynthia stared blankly. "So?"

" _So_ we should only be buying what's absolutely necessary. Let's, at least, _try_ to return with some leftover change, OK?"

Being an avid shopper, Severa knew 100G was not a terrible amount. However, the money they had been bestowed was more than enough for a selection of decorations.

"Yeah, _try_. Come on, that's barely going to cover these 'necessary' essentials."

"It's not _our_ money, remember?"

"I know, _I know_ ", Cynthia sighed softly. "It's just…her Dad is, like, the ruler of Rosanne or something, isn't he? He's up to his neck in cash. Surely they could have-"

Severa interjected. "Excuse _you_ , that's not the point! We should be grateful her parents even gave us _permission_ to throw a party, let alone loan us _their_ money."

Severa had not meant to sound infuriated – she had simply wanted to emphasise the situation – but her friend's remorseful and despondent demeanour suggested otherwise.

"Sorry", whispered Cynthia. "I…I'm…I just really want to do something special. Something really wonderful. Something she'll love." She hesitated. "Something…she deserves."

Severa adopted a sympathetic expression. "So do I. Just remember that this party isn't for us, and if her Mum and Dad don't want us wastefully spending _their_ money, then we…"

She hesitated, struggling to find the appropriate words. "Noire said it herself: she doesn't want anybody exhausting themselves over her. Let's keep that in mind."

Cynthia nodded weakly. "I…I forgot this wasn't about me. I'm sorry I got carried away. I'm so selfish."

Severa really did hate seeing her friend in such a state, especially through no fault of their own. To try and enlighten her, Severa placed a hand on their shoulder.

"Hey, if Noire and her family want 'intimate' and 'organised', then we're gonna throw the best damn…'intimately organised' party this world has ever seen!"

A hopeful smile develop on Cynthia's lips. "The best? In history?"

" _The_ best! There'll never be another party that even competes with ours!"

A maddening grin appeared. "Alright, let's do it."

The Pegasus Rider readopted her cheerful demeanour. "Okay, so… _now_ where do we begin?"

Severa rolled her eyes. "I expected this as much." She retrieved a piece of paper from her pocket. "Which is why I prepared for any possible circumstance", she boasted proudly, "and elected to write up an itinerary for our little expedition."

Cynthia tilted her head. "An itinna-what?" She laughed dismissively. "It's alright, we won't be needing any tinned dairy." She retrieved her own paper. "I made us a list of all the stuff we'll need."

"What? No, that's _what_ an itin…", she sighed exhaustedly, "never mind, let me see."

Studying the two lists, Severa was pleased to see that they were almost identical, albeit Cynthia's featured some more questionable items - a chocolate fountain was probably out of their budget range.

"We've both got pretty much the same list."

"Oh, really? Huh. Great minds think alike, I guess?"

After some intense negotiating (and pleading) from Cynthia, Severa allowed her friend to be in charge of the purchases, a decision Severa hoped she would not regret.

"OK, Cynthia's party planning committee – assemble!"

Rolling her eyes, Severa begrudgingly saluted.

"Our first assignment – organise _the_ most spectacular surprise birthday celebration for our dearest friend in the whole world." Turning around and marching forward, Cynthia consulted the lists. "First item on the agenda – decorations. Well, we're going to need balloons, obviously, as well as colourful signage and posters, although we could probably make some of those ourselves. D'ya reckon we can? We'll definitely need some paint then. Yeah, some nice purple, and blue, and red…"

As the Pegasus rider took off on a tangent, Severa tried her hardest to concentrate, but once again found herself reflecting on their earlier exchange. Ever since their disagreement, Severa had promised her friends, parents and, most importantly, herself that to atone for her injustice she would improve on controlling her anger. Unfortunately, her efforts, for the most part had proved insufficient.

"Sev?"

"Hmm?"

Cynthia stared accusingly. "Are you even listening?"

Truth be told, Severe could barely remember what she had eaten for breakfast, let alone what Cynthia was rambling about. "Yeah, 'course. I was just…mesmerised by your remarkable leadership."

As expected, Cynthia bit her lip excitedly. "Really? Well, alright, I'll let you off the hook this time. Anyway, like I asked: what's your opinion on live music?"

"Wait, for the party? Are you serious?" Her suspicions were confirmed when Cynthia nodded.

"How? Do you mean, like, hire some musicians or something?"

"W-well, not necessarily. I was kinda thinking we might be able to find somebody who'd be willing to…perform for us?"

"Who? We don't know any musicians."

"That's not true. Dad can play the harmonica."

The red-head sighed. "You and I both know that doesn't count as 'live music'."

Although it wasn't quite what _she_ would qualify as necessary item on their agenda, Cynthia's friend's disheartened demeanour evidently expressed that _they_ were very keen on pursuing the idea.

Once again, Severa had neglected to acknowledge she wasn't the only one organising the party; in fact, Cynthia had been the one to propose it. Although she wished they would behave a little more practically, Severa understood Cynthia was only excited.

"Let's just mark music down as a 'maybe' for now", offered Severa, "we'll come back to it later, I promise. Let's just arrange all the really important stuff like food and activities first."

Cynthia acknowledged with an understanding smile.

"Music's a great idea. It's just we don't really know anybody with any real musical experience. I mean, neither of _us_ can play any musical instruments."

"Is mayonnaise an instrument?" Cynthia asked curiously.

Severa could only stare in disbelief, astounded that her friend could have even thought to ask something so ridiculous. Rolling her eyes, she glided past. "I'm just gonna pretend like you _didn't_ just ask me that…"

* * *

With two bags of decorations, their next destination for items and essentials came into Severa's view as she beckoned her curious companion to follow. However, the Pegasus rider continued to gaze intently through the open window of the florist.

"What are you doing?"

"Can we take a look in here? Quickly?"

After approaching her friend, Severa too gazed inside, studying the exotic range of flowers and flora decorated on the shelves. The red-head was confused as to why Cynthia wanted to venture inside.

"What for?"

Cynthia rolled her eyes playfully. "Um, flowers? Duh."

"Yes, _flowers_. What for though?"

"For the party."

"What? As a gift?"

"No, decorations."

"She's not getting married, you idiot. We're organising her birthday party, not her wedding reception."

Witnessing her friend's frightened and hurt expression, Severa's pupils widened, but not before she averted her gaze – remorseful for letting her impulse control her again.

"…It was just an idea."

Severa sighed. " _Just_. Come on, we're…we're wasting time."

Cynthia, however, didn't accompany and instead folded her arms. "…I thought you let me be in charge of our agenda?"

Severa turned back assertively. "Yeah, so long as you don't waste our limited source of money on things we don't need."

"Well, that shows how much you know", retorted Cynthia, "I reckon a nice bouquet would look really beautiful, and I bet Noire would love it."

"…You don't know that."

"And how many parties have you organised, hm?"

"Um, dozens?" Severa scoffed. "Remember my fifteenth?"

"Your Mum organised that."

"Yeah, under _my_ supervision."

Cynthia scratched her cheek bashfully. "…There were flowers at _that_ party."

"And I thought their inclusion was childish."

A contrite expression emerged on Cynthia's face. "… _I_ bought those flowers."

It was only after that secretive detail did Severa finally reflect upon their exchange, and specifically the patronising and vindictive way she mistreated her friend.

As Cynthia continued to gaze sorrowfully at their feet, Severa brought her palm forcefully to her face in punishment for how she acted.

"I'm sorry…I…I did it again."

"Hey, it's okay." Cynthia reassured. "You didn't, honestly."

Severa shook her head. " _No_ , I _did_. I…lost my temper. I'm sorry. I…promised I'd control myself from now on-"

"It's fine. I know what you were trying to say, I understand. I'm not upset, I promise."

Severa studied her friend's extended hand carefully. "I just…I really don't to be responsible for another fight…"

Cynthia placed her hands on their shoulders. "Hey, come on, enough of this. You made _us_ promise we wouldn't talk about that anymore, remember? I've forgotten about it, and so has Noire. We expect you to, as well." She waved dismissively. "That little fight - that was years ago."

Severa smirked. "Two months, you mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean', Cynthia rolled her eyes impishly, "it's long since forgotten. It's just a thing of the past now - a discarded memory to be left and forgotten." She rubbed her friend's shoulders gently. "Come on, where's that feisty Severa we all know and love? Do I have to kiss you?"

The red-head recoiled. "No!"

"Well, alrighty then." She hesitated before smiling weakly. "You OK now?"

Severa composed herself and returned the gesture. "Yeah", she whispered, infinitely grateful for Cynthia's forgiveness and understanding.

After a moment of silence, Severa elected to permit her friend in exchange for their support and encouragement. With a defeated smile, Severa sighed begrudgingly. "Alright, we'll have a quick peek inside…"

Cynthia clenched her fists excitedly. "Yes!" The young woman eagerly raced inside, barreling past the other disillusioned customers.

Severa hastily pursued her. "This doesn't mean we're gonna buy anything!"

* * *

The red-head's exploration of the decorated floral aisles was interrupted by Cynthia beckoning feverishly with a whisper.

"What? What is it?"

Unexpectedly, Cynthia grabbed her by the collar and pulled her towards down. "Shh! Keep it down."

Severa loosened herself from the grip. "What? Why are we whispering?"

After bringing a finger to her lips, Cynthia slowly turned and pointed towards the corner. Following the direction, Severa surveyed the area before her eyes fell upon a familiar figure – a young blonde haired boy cradling a potted flower.

Cynthia whispered curiously. "Is that Brady?"

Severa concentrated. "Is it?"

"I don't know. Wait, hold on, I'll find out." The Pegasus rider stood up hastily. "Hey, Brady! Is that you?"

Closing her eyes with embarrassment, Severa too inspected whether Cynthia's exclaim had been acknowledged. The disillusioned smirk projected from the man was an obvious signal – it was unmistakably Brady.

Severa watched as the younger man casually approached them. "Cynth, Sev, what's goin' on, girls?"

Cynthia smiled warmly and welcomed him with short embrace. "Oh, nothing much. How are you? I haven't seen you in _so_ long."

He shrugged absentmindedly. "Ah, not too bad, not too bad. Been a bit busy lately, as you are, y'know? What are you girls up to?"

"Just a bit of shopping."

"Is that so?" He turned to Severa and smirked. "Didn't peg you as the type to browse at the florists."

Severa folded her arms and smiled. "I could ask the same of _you_. 'The hell are _you_ doing in here?" Because of their similar attitudes and views, Severa always respected Brady, and never tired of the banter and teasing they exchanged.

He raised a hand defensively. "Hey, your guess is as good as mine. This ain't exactly my ideal venue to spend my money. Nah, the flowers decoraratin' the house have all wilted and died so Ma's entrusted me with buying more."

During his explanation, Cynthia had retrieved the flower from beneath his arm, and studied it eagerly. "Couldn't you just pick some from your garden? Your place is huge!"

"That's what I said! I was like 'Ma, surely we could sacrifice one little daisy', but she insisted that we _buy_ some more – it 'supports the local community' or some rubbish like that. Yeah, but I don't mind. It gets me out the house, I suppose."

Severa observed as Brady curiously inspected the area. "Hey, is…is Noire with you guys?"

Ever the provocateur, an impish smirk appeared over his unexpected question. "And why do you ask, Brady?"

"Oh nothing, there's just something I wanted to ask-"

"It's funny that mention her" interjected Cynthia, oblivious to Severa's insinuation, "because we're actually in town on account of her."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

Cynthia whispered excitedly. "OK, Come close." She gestured for Brady to kneel before she whispered in his ear. "We're throwing Noire a super-secret surprise Birthday party. Oh, but don't tell anybody – it's a secret."

Forcefully, Severa brought her palm to her forehead.

"Really? That's really really sweet of you guys. Damn, I wish my mates would do stuff like that for me. She…she's real lucky to know you two."

Cynthia extended her chest triumphantly. "Yep, this party is gonna go down in history."

"Yeah, with your influence, I don't doubt that. When is her Birthday, anyway?"

"October 7th."

"Right, and what year are you lot celebrating."

"Her eighteenth – only the most important year of all, duh."

"Yeah, so I've been told."

Severa interrupted their exchange with a curious smile. "You sure wish to know a lot about Noire, don't you? Is there something you aren't telling us?"

Brady adopted a defensive tone. "Oi, behave, will 'ya? I was only curious."

Severa nodded mockingly. "Yeah, I'll bet." Her mind had immediately migrated to the most possible (and juiciest) conclusion.

"Oh, Sev, leave him alone" interrupted Cynthia sincerely, "he's just as excited as we are, aren't you?"

Brady nodded. "Yeah, yeah…that's right. After all, eighteen is a pretty important step, y'know?"

"Exactly."

Severa liked to think she knew Brady better than most. She could tell when he was exaggerating, and he was definitely hiding something. "Alright, I believe you." She raised her hand in defeat, and observed the expression of relief develop on his face, but not before noticing Cynthia's illuminating with excitement.

"Ohmygosh, Brady", exclaimed Cynthia, "do you think you could help us with something? It's about Noire's party."

"Yeah, sure. What is it?"

Cynthia smiled hopefully. "Would it be at all possible for you to play some live music on the night of her party?"

Brady recoiled in surprise. "Wha-? What? _Music_? What d'ya mean 'music'? I can't play."

"I thought you played violin?"

"What? No…no, I don't. Where d'ya get that crazy idea? I don't play no violins or nothing."

Amused, Severa and Cynthia exchanged a sly smile between one another.

"Oh, come on! How do you two know about _that_?"

Severa smirked. " _Everybody_ knows you play the violin. It's hardly a secret anymore."

"And here I thought I'd been subtle."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about", offered Cynthia hopefully, "I think it's pretty…cute?"

"Yeah, thanks for the insight. _Very_ inspiring." Brady answered dryly before averting his gaze, humiliated.

Remorseful for teasing and harassing him, Severa sighed softly and turned to Cynthia – she too featured the same sorrowful demeanour.

Summoning a weak smile, Severa repeated the question. "So…can you play for us?"

Brady stirred uncomfortably. "I don't know…"

"It doesn't have to be long, y'know?" Cynthia continued hopefully. "You'll only need to perform for, like, ten or so minutes. Maybe after tea? We promise it won't take long."

No verbal response. Brady instead scratched his marked eye.

"You don't need to this as a favor for _us_ " added Severa, "do this for Noire."

The young man glared accusingly. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean. If you don't feel comfortable performing _us_ , then maybe you'll feel a little safer if you're performing for Noire? I mean, your violin playing – it could be like a Birthday present."

The pair observed as Brady hesitated, visibly concentrating on their proposal.

"Please?" Cynthia smiled weakly. "I know Noire would love to hear you play. We all would. Really."

"…You'd be doing it for a friend."

After a moment of inactivity, the two women were treated to a sigh of defeat.

"…We're not friends."

Cynthia recoiled, offended. "What? B-but…but I thought…"

"Not you two" he answered seriously, "I…I mean me and Noire. We're…we're not friends."

Conflicted by his confession, Severa glared. "Don't you consider her a friend?"

"No! Wait, yes! I mean, I…I _do_." Brady rambled frantically. "I _do_ consider her a friend, I really do. It's just…", he sighed deeply, "I don't think she feels the same…about me."

Worried, Cynthia brought a hand to her mouth. "Why not? Why wouldn't she? I…I thought you two were pretty close."

Brady shrugged lazily. "Yeah, I guess, kinda. But…but I still don't know her very well – at least, as much as I wish I did. Besides, her Mum's not terribly fond of me either. I don't think she'd appreciate me serenating her daughter with a violin melody."

Severa inquired politely. "Why? Have you done something to upset her?"

"I don't know", he shrugged again, "probably, though I can't quite recall." He hesitated. "Noire's Ma and my Ma have never gotten along very well. It's nothing personal, they just don't cooperate all the time. The last thing I really wanna be is responsible for another dispute between 'em. I…I don't wanna put Noire through somethin' like that."

Cynthia and Severa stared breathlessly – astonished to hear something so touching noble from Brady of all people – somebody that wasn't always the most welcoming person. Above anything else, they were impressed by his display of maturity and care. Though Severa assumed something else, she soon rationalised he was most likely concerned about her safety and well-being.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I wanna play, I do but I can't, and even if I could, I ain't got nothing to play with." He grinned bashfully. "I did a nasty number on my bow in a vent of frustration, and now my old man's helping me repair it. Sorry."

Nodding understandingly, Cynthia sighed softly. "It's OK, really." She fidgeted with her hands. "We're sorry for pestering you. We didn't know that you weren't able to play."

Severa nodded apologetically. "Yeah."

Brady smiled reassuringly "Hey, it's alright, I know where you were comin' from. I really wish that I could play. If I _could_ I _would_ , but I can't."

Gently rubbing his arm, Cynthia smiled ingenuously. "It's fine, honestly. We'll just have to find somebody else."

"If there's anything else I can do to, y'know, help…?"

Slowly, Cynthia's disheartened dissolved. "There… _may_ actually be something else – something we could ask for your insight on?"

As Cynthia smiled hopefully to Severa, she excitedly shook the potted plant still in her grasp. Severa immediately interpreted the message and with a sigh of defeat, she begrudgingly smiled.

"Sure", he answered casually, "just name it. I'll do anythin' for Noire."

Wasting no time, Cynthia began to escort the confused and overwhelmed boy, enlightening him about her pursuit for the most exotic and beautiful flower for their friend's party as Brady sheepishly answered to the best of his abilities.

As Severa accompanied them, a small smile emerged as she repeated the young man's words to herself.

 _Anything for Noire?_


	17. In This Life

"If you even so much as _think_ of sampling this, I will curse you with an eternity of infinite suffering."

"Woah, hey, settle down, love. I was only inspecting the creation that _I_ helped prepare."

"Attempt anything and you'll inspect the inside of an early tomb."

"Gods, charming as ever, aren't you sunshine? You must be a riot at gatherings such as these, huh?"

"…You have no idea."

"My love, be still. He means no harm. I believe what our friend was _trying_ to perform was a visual assessment, and we must thank him for his devotion and commitment to the success of tonight."

"Yeah, what big blue here said. You should try listening to him for a change."

"Oh, Gaius, please not now. This is very important, remember? Will you please…just...? For me?"

"…Yeah, OK. Sorry."

"Perhaps you should trying to listening to your wife for a change - the evident intelligence of the operation."

"Alright, I'll give you _that_ one."

Cynthia and Severa were relieved the conflict between Noire's mother and Cynthia's father did not escalate any further. The last thing they could have hoped for was a lack of communication between the parents on what was supposed to be a very important night.

Severa cheekily whispered. "Does your Dad _ever_ get tired of pissing everybody off?"

"I don't know." Cynthia answered with a smirk. "Do _you_?

Severa elbowed her.

* * *

Balancing on a chair, Cynthia attempted to gently hammer the ribbon streamers as Severa threaded them through. Watching Cynthia teeter back and forth was amusing, but Severa remembered one false move and her friend could very well injure herself. Even though her friend was struggling with the role, Severa was relieved none of the younger children – Noire's extended family – helping with other decorations were endangering themselves.

Noire's father appeared to offer assistance. Any method of support was welcome so they accepted and switched positions as the older man effortlessly completed their task.

Cynthia smiled sheepishly. Severa announced bashfully. "…Thank you."

"It's the very least I can do - especially after everything else the two of you have accomplished."

It's nothing, really."

"I very much disagree. Her mother and I - we cannot thank each of you enough for proposing a gathering in celebration of her birthday, and electing to organise and decorate the event yourselves was more than we could have asked of you."

Severa's shrugged bashfully. "W-well, we should probably thank _you_ again for even letting us throw a party in the first place."

Virion nodded. "We _had_ intended on celebrating. We weren't, however, confident in our abilities to successfully organise an event such as this."

The pair exchanged a worried gaze between them, concerned their efforts may not have been what the parents were expecting.

"Do you like it?"

He smiled sincerely. "It's surpassed my wildest expectations. We shall have to consult the pair of you henceforth for your insight on any social gatherings we may wish to organise in the future."

Cynthia suppressed a giggle and fidgeted uncontrollably. Severa smiled appreciatively.

The two relieved to have received his blessing. This confirmation, however, was accompanied by a persistent doubt: would her mother be so approving? This lingering fear was evoked when the pair watched the woman in question approach her husband – without so much as acknowledging their presence.

"It's almost time. She's expecting us."

"Of course." Virion gestured towards them. "I only wished to thank her friends here for their tremendous efforts. All of this – it could not have been possible if not for them."

"I _know_ , and their work has not gone unrecognised."

Upon hearing this, the pair straightened their postures and presented themselves appropriately, fearfully watching as the friend's mother scrutinising gaze returned as she studied the decorations.

Cynthia and Severa didn't dislike Noire's mother. They'd come to know the dark mage quite well, and certainly weren't averse to being in her company. But they'd also become intimately aware of how overprotective she could be of her daughter – a quality they had unfortunately evoked on several occasions.

Noire's father's leave unnerved the young women. The older woman centered her attention on them; her cold, calculated gaze made their bodies tense.

"Come with me." Tharja approached the hallway entrance, gestured for them to follow and disappeared from sight. Her reaction was worse than they expected.

Severa lowered her eyes. "…Here we go."

Unlike like her father, Noire's mother had not been as approving of the party, evidently resistant to the proposition. And just as Severa and Cynthia suspected, she intended to reproach them in private.

"Come on." Severa whispered. "Let's just...let's just accept whatever she has to say, and don't say anything else."

"But I…I thought we did really well?"

"Guess not."

Cynthia sorrowfully accompanied the red-head as the two approached the hallway. They felt as if they were on death row – on trial before the judge, jury _and_ executioner. The pair averted their gazes fearfully upon witnessing Noire's mother waiting expectantly, summoning them closer.

Holding their breaths, the two prepared themselves for the inevitable.

"…I owe you an apology."

Cautiously, the pair returned their eyes.

"I…have not been helpful or supportive at all, and I'm sorry for refusing to cooperate." She hesitated. "…I had _wanted_ to, but I couldn't be certain whether or not you actually intended on celebrating, or if you were capitalising on this situation to fulfil your own pursuits. I see now _that_ was never the case. I do not understand why it has taken me so long to realise your intentions were earnest and pure."

Severa and Cynthia were speechless. Instead of her glare of scrutiny and disapproval, the dark mage's expression had developed into one of uncharacteristic sorrow and regret.

"It's okay, really." Severa whispered hopefully.

"Yeah" continued Cynthia, "you had every right to be-"

" _No_ , I did _not_. I was selfish and thoughtless, and neither of you ever deserved to be treated like that. I truly despise myself for ever suspecting either of you ever had dishonest or deceitful intentions." She sighed remorsefully. "I understand _now_. I should have supported your ambition from the very beginning."

The older woman's penitent self-reflection may have been where Noire inherited the quality, thought Severa. She offered a hopeful smile. "You did, didn't you? I mean…you were only thinking about Noire and what's best for her, right? That was…kind of _our_ attitude too. So, in a way, y-you _were_ supporting us all along."

She observed as Tharja studied her intently, evidently processing the words. Severa immediately regretted speaking.

After a moment of unbearable silent tension, the dark mage's apologetic demeanour reemerged.

"No. I was wrong to question your judgement. I…I don't know her as well as you do."

Although it wasn't their business, Severa and Cynthia knew of the fractured, almost distant relationship Noire shared with her mother, and how desperate their friend was for her parent's approval and acceptance. Despite their separation, the two knew deep down her parent loved her very much.

"We love Noire too", whispered Cynthia warmly.

"Yeah" reaffirmed Severa. "She's our best friend, and we would do anything for her."

Hoping very much to reassure the older woman, the two observed Tharja's contrite expression soften.

"You don't know how wonderful that is to hear." Tharja brought a hand to her chest. "I could not be more grateful that my daughter has come to know such incredibly caring and supportive young women. Thank you both – for everything."

Severa and Cynthia smiled appreciatively.

"I must confess: at first I was reluctant to bestow a pair of adolescent girls a sum of _our_ money, but I understand now I was wrong to ever doubt or distrust you."

Cynthia asked hopefully. "So, does that mean you…like it?"

"Yes, very much. It's everything I could ever wished for and then some."

"Do you think Noire will like it?"

"I do believe so - knowing that you two were the organisers."

"Oh, yeah, about that." Cynthia smiled nervously. "Do you think – maybe? – we could keep that a secret? About _us_?"

"You don't wish for her to know?"

"No, no, of course we do." Severa interjected. "We just…we just kinda want to tell her ourselves. So is it alright if we keep it a secret?"

They were graced with an understanding smile. "Very well. If you wish."

* * *

With nighttime approaching, the metaphorical stage was finally ready for presentation. All that was remaining was the young woman they were expecting to return home with her parents.

Sitting silently in the dark room with the other guests, Cynthia wriggled excitedly upon hearing the front door open accompanied by soft voices and footsteps. Severa clutched her friend to insist they remain dormant. It wasn't long before the two parents escorted their daughter into the lounge room, followed on cue by one of the children illuminating the room, prompting a rousing a cheer from the guests and a shriek from Noire.

Eagerly, Cynthia wasted no time in embracing her friend. Noire, however, stared in a mixture of shock and fear.

"Hello? Anybody in there? Come on, say something." Cynthia waved a hand in front of their face.

"H-how…how did you get inside?"

Everybody laughed with amusement. Cynthia smirked. "Really? You come home to a super- secret surprise party being thrown for _you_ and _that's_ all you have to ask? Seriously?"

"A party? For _me_?" Noire turning back to her parents. "D-did _you_ …?"

They confirmed with warm smiles.

It was only here did Noire acknowledge the ensemble of friends and family. "Oh, goodness." She laughed embarrassingly with a polite wave. "Oh, h-hello everybody."

With Severa beside her, Cynthia stared expectantly for a response.

A bitter-sweet smile spread across their friend's lips. "….I don't know what to say…"

* * *

And with the arrival of the birthday girl, the long-awaited celebration could finally commence as Severa, Cynthia and the other friends and family members welcomed her in and took turns in presenting their individual gifts. Although her mother had been the one to knit it, Severa insisted the scarf she presented was her own creation, much to Cordelia's amusement.

The exotic necklace Noire unwrapped sucked the breath from her. Everybody was astonished, but none more so than Cynthia who inquired how her father afforded the most expensive piece of jewelry from the shop they visited. Although Gaius reassured he had obtained it appropriately, Cynthia couldn't be certain. She dismissed the thought, however. She knew her father had put that kind of life behind him.

The gift that evoked the most emotional response was painting of her grandmother cradling her as a baby. Noire struggled to contain her emotions. Her father explained it had been the item he collected from the post office. Severa and Cynthia were so ecstatic for their friend.

* * *

Amidst the laughter and conversing, the sound of glass lightly tapping alerted everybody.

"May I please have everybody's attention?" Virion assumed the centre of the room. "Forgive me for the interruption - I do not wish to keep you from conversing with one another. I only ask for a moment of your time – to allow me to share a few words I have prepared for tonight."

Much like everybody else, Severa and Cynthia were eager to hear what he wished to say.

"Thank you all ever so much for attending. I cannot emphasise how wonderful it is that each and every one of you could be with us tonight – in celebration and cherishing a very special event, and an ever so special young lady." He chuckled softly. "Excuse me, I must correct myself – a very special _woman_ ", he gestured towards her, "the maiden of honour and my resplendent, beautiful daughter."

Severa and Cynthia watched as their young friend smiled bashfully.

"Eighteen years. Surely it hasn't been that long? Where have all those years vanished? I still cannot bring myself to accept that today – _this_ very day eighteen years ago – I was bestowed _the_ most precious and sacred treasure I could have ever dreamed of. Why, it seems as if only yesterday I was guiding you through the early stages of archery, helping you better become acquainted with the world around you, and inspecting beneath your bed for malevolent demons."

Soft laughter echoed through the room. Noire covered her eyes with embarrassment. "Oh, dear…"

* * *

Everybody listened as Virion recited his speech. Severa and Cynthia occasionally turned to Noire but they was far too invested in her father's words to notice.

"These experiences - these moments, too many to count - are memories I cherish with immeasurable passion, and I owe each and every one of them to you. You are not but my child. You are the radiating beacon of joy, hope and optimism shining within me - an eternal source of guidance, comfort and inspiration." He raised his glass. "You are my daughter, and I love you."

With a passionate smile, Noire reciprocated the sentiment as welcomed his embrace. "Th-thank you, Father. I love you too."

When the applause settled, Severa, Cynthia and everybody else's eyes instinctively migrated towards the other member of the family, sitting in attentive silence. If the dark mage's unexpected frightened expression was a signal to go by, she understood what everybody was expecting and anxiously refused. But after some encouragement from her husband and the other adults, she summoned the courage to speak. And judging by Noire's hopeful expression, she too wished to hear her mother.

The silence in the room was palpable as Tharja assumed Virion's position in the centre of the room.

"I did not expect to speak in front of an audience tonight" she began, "so I…have not prepared any words in advance. I apologise. Instead, I will improvise to the best of my abilities. Please forgive me if I sound…unrehearsed."

Severa and Cynthia could tell from her demeanour and tone she was reluctant to speak.

"Once again, thank you all for coming. We understand some of you have had to travel a great distance to be here, so thank you for your commitment. It means the world to me to see so many incredible people here tonight – joining me and my husband in commemorating the birthday of my daughter and her first day into womanhood."

Not unlike before, Noire's cheeks erupted with passion. However, she did not avert her eyes rather continued to gaze intently.

"I still remember that day intimately well; being summoned for another rudimentary medical examination, apathetically preparing myself for my assessment, and leaving with the unanticipated knowledge that I was…expecting. _Me_ – _I_ was expecting a child, a daughter of my own. _I_ was to become a mother, and not only that, but a parent, a caregiver and guardian of a child I was expected to nurture, raise and protect."

Tharja fell silent before she averted her eyes. "It was all very difficult for me to process at first, and the expectations of me clouded my judgement and awareness. I…was conflicted with myself – arriving at desperate and misguided conclusions as to why I wasn't a suitable parent and mother. I wasn't prepared to accept the responsibility of a child." A weak smile emerged. "Well, _another_ , I should say. After all" she glared accusingly, "there was _already_ an infant in my life I was responsible for."

The man in question raised his hands in defeat, prompting a session of soft laughter. Virion blew her a kiss. Tharja returned by baring her teeth and biting seductively.

"…I'm exaggerating, of course." Tharja reassured. "My husband, as well as many of you here tonight - you were all so encouraging and so supportive of me during my time of doubt." She sighed deeply. "I have difficulty accepting the help of others, so your care and support meant ever so much to me. And come this day eighteen years ago, I couldn't have been more ecstatic to welcome my daughter into the world with all of you beside me."

"Every source I referenced for information and insight for expectant parents advised me to prepare for what I _thought_ was to be an exhausting and laborious process. But the experience I had wasn't the case at all. You were…curious…and ambitious, but you came to understand of your boundaries and limitations very early on – without our teaching. You were an inquisitive and adaptive learner, not unlike your father."

While the dark mage's demeanour had been predominantly positive, sadness and sorrow slowly developed.

"…You inherited so much from your father, and even when I look at you now I can still see his influence; the hair, the speech, the passion for archery, and so much more. It was…becoming intimately clear to me your father was the most prominent influence. And maybe that was for the best."

The tension in the room was palpable as the typically stoic and unamused woman wore a scowl of profound-self-loathing.

"There has not been a single day passed where I haven't been haunted by my actions. I was negligent…and selfish, and far more concerned about myself rather than my own daughter – somebody who was dependent on me for guidance and support. How I treated you was unforgivable, and you never deserved any of it. You never deserved somebody like _me_ …as your mother."

The lounge room was deathly silent as the dark mage brought a finger to her eyelids. "Maybe…if I hadn't put my own selfish desires before my family, you wouldn't have…"

She shook her head bitterly. "No. No, you would have benefitted from my absence in your youth. I understand now why you aspire to be like your father; he's ten times the parent I could ever hope to be. I…don't ever expect you to forgive me."

Virion rose to his feet but Tharja politely refused the gesture. Severa and Cynthia could only stare in disbelief. They were wounded to have listened to the dark mage's confession, but were even more worried about their friend's condition during what was a confronting moment. And judging by Noire's anguished expression, she too was hurt as well.

"But…but I want you to know: from leaving Plegia, being welcomed into the Sheppards, meeting your father and falling in love – above everything – above it all – it's _you_ that I have held the most dearly. _You_ are the most sacred blessing I could have ever hoped for." A small smile appeared. "I could not be more proud to see the young girl I so ever adored cradling in my arms blossom into the extraordinarily ambitious, caring, and beautiful woman I see before me."

"…I love you, Noire. I always have and I always will."

The comfortable silence was slowly disrupted by the sound of gentle crying as Severa and Cynthia inspected the source, only to see their friend drying her eyes. But the tears Noire shed weren't of despair or sorrow but of joy and bliss.

Noire daintily approached her mother, whimpering softly before the dark mage welcomed her into an embrace. Erupting into tears, a faint muffled cry could be heard as she was cradled. "…I l-love you too, M-mother."

As the soft applause and ovation accompanied the evocative display, Severa felt Cynthia clutch and shake her hand excitedly. An infectious grin of excitement was spread across Cynthia's lips. Reciprocating her sentiments, Severa returned the smile.


	18. Not Me, Not I

The amber liquid bubbling softly was a sensation reflected within Noire's stomach, experiencing a mixture of feelings as she studied the beverage. She turned to her friends for sympathy or relief but received none.

"…I don't want to…"

"You have to. This is part of your initiation. You won't be an adult unless you do", Severa instructed.

Cynthia was a little more forgiving. "Just a sip. At least try it. You might even like it."

A sip was just about all she could handle, thought Noire, intensely reluctant to sample what appeared to be a harmful toxin. Closing her eyes, Noire hesitantly brought the glass to her lips. Upon registering with her taste buds, Noire's eyes shot open as she suppressed a gag reflex. After swallowing, she feverishly retrieved the glass of water to cleanse her mouth.

Severa scoffed with amusement, retrieving her own glass. "Come on, it's not _that_ bad."

"…I don't understand how you can drink that. It tastes horrid."

"You don't drink for the taste - you drink for the way it makes you feel after."

Cynthia cradled her own glass. "Yeah, you'll get used to it." After finishing, she sighed with exaggerated bliss before unexpectedly burping, covering her mouth hastily.

If it were any other circumstance, Noire would have been amused by her friend's antic, but instead she was far more fearful over the prospects of effects of alcohol consumption. "I'm going to be alright, aren't I? N-nothing's going to happen to me? I won't become…unstable, will I?"

Severa and Cynthia stared at her incredulously before snorting with laughter.

"Yeah, maybe after a couple dozen sips." Severa rolled her eyes. "Not just _one_."

"Ooh, you'd better not have another", teased Cynthia, "you might pass out."

"Or even worse – you might start singing!"

Humiliated and embarrassed, Noire folded her arms with displeasure. She hadn't tried alcohol before, and she had every right to be concerned about its effects.

"J-just because you two are perfectly content with consuming alcohol doesn't mean I will be as well. I've told you before: I don't intend on adopting this kind of lifestyle. Excessive drinking – it's dangerous."

The pair's teasing ceased; evidently they understood her concerns.

"I know what you mean" reassured Severa, "but that only happens if you _let_ it become an addiction and take control of your life. A glass or stubby here and there is perfectly safe. Just reserve the treat for a special events like this. That's what I do."

Cynthia reaffirmed. "Same. I only drink when I'm with others – like at parties."

"…I didn't see either of you drinking on _my_ birthday."

"That was different", explained Severa, "it was a special evening and we wanted to respect its importance. At least…that's what _I_ thought."

Cynthia smiled weakly. "Well, I didn't see _you_ having any drinks so I didn't have any either. Besides, we didn't need any drinks in order to enjoy ourselves. It was a really special night."

Relieved to hear that, Noire returned the smile. "W-well, what about now? It's only just passed Midday."

Severa waved dismissively. "It's only one glass, we'll be fine."

"Oh, be careful though; one more sip will knock you right off your rocker."

As Severa laughed in response, Noire lowered her gaze. "What would your parents think if they found you drinking at this early in the afternoon?"

"Um, nothing." Severa answered sarcastically. "We're adults now. We're legally permitted to purchase and drink alcohol however and whenever we want. We're not children anymore – we don't need our parents to supervise us whenever we leave the house."

Cynthia whispered teasingly. "Speak for yourself."

Severa elbowed the young woman. "Besides, even if they _did_ have an issue, they wouldn't find out. One glass won't cause any effects or symptoms."

"…Are you sure?"

"Of course. Why?"

Noire clutched her torso. "I…I don't...I'm…"

Sighing deeply, she gazed at her friends hopefully. "C-can I ask you to please never speak of this with Mother or Father?"

Both girls immediately confirmed with a nod.

"I…I promised them when I turned eighteen that I would behave – that I'd never abuse the privileges that were to come with adulthood. I'd…I really would hate to hear what they'd think of me if they knew I'd been drinking alcohol without their consent. They'd be so disappointed in me."

"They won't know", reassured Severa. "We'll never tell them, will we?"

Cynthia reaffirmed, shaking her head. "No, never, we promise. We're just gonna pretend this little trip to the pub never happened. In fact", she unexpectedly rose to her feet, "I don't even remember what we we're talking about or why we're even here. I don't even like drinking."

Although surprised at first, Noire knew to interpret the reaction as a proposal to leave.

Before Noire could move, Cynthia eagerly clutched her hand with an impish smile. "C'mon, the day's not over yet, and there's still plenty of things you still need to try now that you're eighteen."

As Cynthia began to escort her out of the bar, Noire turned to Severa for support but was only greeted with the same mischievous smile.

Noire didn't want to imagine what they'd prepared for her. "Oh, dear…"

* * *

To Noire's relief, nothing unmanageable came from Cynthia and Severa's exhibition of the newly dawned world of adulthood. Their tour was an experience she was so pleased to be able spend with her friends, who evidently enjoyed escorting.

After several minutes of exploration, Noire emerged from the building with her most recent purchases. Because of Severa's influence, she finally bought the kitchenware and baking utensils she always secretly desired. Her purse filled with her allowance and birthday money felt a little lighter - a signal to stop as much as wished to continue.

As she engaged in a conversation with Severa about what she intended to do with the kitchenware – explaining she wasn't planning an assassination – their discussion ceased upon taking into account an absent member of their party. They discovered Cynthia halted behind them, staring intently at something before them.

Her gaze of petrified shock – it was if she saw a dragon or something. But upon performing a closer inspection, Severa and Cynthia discovered their suspicion wasn't exactly that far off. It wasn't so much a dragon rather its rider, attending one of the stalls. Even from a distance, the pair studied the individuals brunette hair and dark attire. It was unmistakably Gerome.

As Noire expected, Severa turned back to Cynthia with a smirk. "Well, look who it is."

From her frightened, apprehensive gaze, Cynthia was evidently uncomfortable. "Can we please go somewhere else?" She gestured frantically in the opposite direction.

"What's wrong? Aren't you going to offer to help clean his wyvern?"

As Cynthia pouted with humiliation, so did Noire. She was intimately aware Severa enjoyed the odd teasing remark, but even she should have known better than to provoke somebody about their romantic feelings.

As Severa turned back to face the man, Cynthia extended a hand. "Please, don't…!"

"Settle down. We're just going to say 'hello', aren't we?"

Noire noticed Severa turned to her, expectant for an approval. Much like her, Noire too wished to speak with Gerome, but not for the same reasons as her friend. Noire shook her head, silently instructing Severa to cease the teasing.

Disheartened to see her friend in such a state, Noire daintily approached Cynthia, hoping to instill some courage and hope. "We will only introduce ourselves; nothing more. I won't say anything, I promise."

"Please don't" she whispered pleadingly, "I…I don't think he's forgive me yet."

"If you want, I can ask him for you. I know Gerome, and I know he'll be honest with me."

Cynthia exchanged a glance between her and the boy before whispering in Noire's ear. "Would you, please? B-but…politely?"

Noire acknowledged her request. "Of course."

"Thank you."

With her friend's ambition in mind, Noire returned to join Severa, curiously oblivious to their exchange. "We won't be long, will we?"

Severa acknowledged and reassured their friend they wouldn't inquire about anything personal. Cynthia offered a weak smile before reluctantly migrating towards a vacant seating bench, out of sight.

As they slowly approached the young man, Noire turned to Severa sternly. "Please, don't say anything."

"I won't, c'mon."

By her tone, Noire was convinced Severa wouldn't attempt anything. What Noire didn't expect however was Severa to approach the stoic young man so…casually.

"Well, well, well. Who do we have here?" She placed her hands on her hips. "If it isn't Gerome. How are you this fine afternoon?"

Noire winced with embarrassment, hoping the man in question would not be disturbed by their presence. Instead, the wyvern rider averted his attention before returning to study the unattended stall.

"Severa."

On cue, Noire watched as the red-head eagerly migrated beside him, leaning absentmindedly against the counter. "We just wanted to see how you're doing."

Before Noire could introduce herself, the man occupying the stall remerged. It was here when Gerome offered a clipboard and pencil – items the man accepted before writing on the attached piece of paper and returning it. After bidding them farewell, Gerome turned his attention to properly address the pair of them.

"I never thought you'd be the type to step outside your cave and explore the outside world", Severa smirked.

Gerome scoffed. "Yes, well you will need to further suspend your disbelief as you are sorely mistaken. I'm here on business not pleasure."

"Is that right?"

"I've accepted one the available positions for delivery and transportation at the post office", he explained, "and as you've just witnessed, I've received the signature of confirmation that the package has been safely received." Concluding, he placed the clipboard within his pocket.

To Noire's disappointment, Severa's smirk evolved into one of exaggerated seduction. "Ooh, that sounds exciting. Though, it must be quite challenging - actually socialising with others for a change. How's that been fairing for you?"

"About as well as _your_ attempts at self-deprecating humour."

A small laugh escaped Noire's lips. But her impromptu reaction was not appreciated evidently as Severa stared in disbelief, a vibrant red decorating her cheeks.

Severa folded her arms and glared at the young man, "douche, I was only joking", before storming away.

Noire extended a hand. "No, Severa…"

Her objection was in vain as Severa disappeared from sight in the direction of where Cynthia was seated. Noire ventured Cynthia was about to receive a mouthful about how disrespectful her crush was, and Noire didn't even want to imagine how _she_ was going to be reproached for laughing.

Sighing deeply, Noire turned back to the older gentleman. "She didn't mean those things."

"I know. I assure, I did not either."

Noire acknowledged with a weak smile.

It didn't need to be said that Gerome wasn't always the most welcoming of individuals. To many, he was curt and abrasive. But to Noire, he had always been honest and sincere.

Gerome's mother had once been her father's personal retainer, and their parents' history meant Noire had known the older gentleman quite well since youth. But unlike Cynthia, Noire's feelings for Gerome never evolved beyond respect and friendship. Because of their time together, Noire always perceived Gerome as an older brother of sorts, and somebody she knew she could trust and rely on for support – somebody who wouldn't filter their opinions for her sake.

Noire knew Gerome never intentionally meant to hurt or upset anybody. He was just another young adult who had difficulty expressing themselves – a quality Noire knew all too well of. She only wished the rest of the town knew him they she did, and she ventured Cynthia felt the same.

"Noire. How may I be of service?"

The unexpected question evoked a smile. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you."

"Are you certain, because if there's anything you ever desire, you needn't hesitate to ask."

She laughed softly. "That won't be necessary. But thank you for offering."

His insistence was endearing. This was the side of the young man Noire cherished.

"I understand you've turned eighteen since last we spoke. Congratulations."

"Oh, thank you. It was last week actually."

"I trust you celebrated?"

"We did. I spent the entire day with my family, and not just my parents – almost everybody form my extended family came to…be with me."

A small smile appeared. "I do hope you enjoyed yourself."

"I did. Very much. Even after dining with my parents, the day wasn't over. I came to home to discover all my friends and family had organised a surprise gathering. It was…it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done for me. I only wish you and your mother could have been there as well."

His smile faltered. "My family and I _were_ invited. We were very quick to accept the invitation, but complications arose in Rosanne, and her attendance was expected. I may be able to speak on behalf of my mother, but that does not excuse my lack of attendance. Please forgive me for my absence."

Noire shook her head. "Oh, _I'm_ sorry. What I said, I…I didn't mean it like _that_. You don't need to apologise. I understand why you couldn't be there."

He scoffed. "My explanation is not a valid excuse. With or without my mother, I was still expected to attend."

Noire offered a reassuring smile. "I don't think anybody really _expected_ you to be there, and I assure you nobody thinks any lesser of you for not coming. Besides, I really don't think you would have enjoyed yourself. It was mostly close friends and family – people you don't know really well."

"Still, I understood how important the night was to be, and for you I would have appeared."

Noire smiled sheepishly. "I…I _do_ wish you and your mother could have come. I would have loved to have spoken with your mother again, and I know it would have meant the world to Father."

He nodded understandingly. "It does feel like a generation has passed since we all last spoke together."

Noire acknowledged with an eager smile; she too had made that observation. Inspiration graced her as she offered a proposal – one that she he hoped he would accept.

"If you wish" she began bashfully, "I could always speak with my parents. Perhaps we can organise another evening together? Excuse me - our families together, I mean."

The wyvern rider's smile returned. "I think I would like that."

Noire returned the gesture. "Me too, and I _know_ your Mother would absolutely adore to be with Father again."

Her comment evoked a soft laugh from the older gentleman, evidently reminiscing too on their parents' history.

"So…I can expect to see you again sometime in the future?"

"I look forward to it."

Noire acknowledged and lowered her gaze as their exchange returned to silence.

"I have very much enjoyed our time together here", Gerome announced after clearing his throat, "but I must take my leave – management at the post office are expecting a confirmation of my successful delivery."

"Oh, goodness, of course. I'm sorry if I've kept your from your work."

"You haven't; not at all."

As much as Noire didn't wish to intervene with his work any further, she remembered she too was there on account of somebody else – a promise she was determined to fulfil.

"Wait." Noire extended a hand, bringing the young man to a halt. "I'm sorry. I understand you have places to be, but before you leave, may I talk with you about something? Something…a little personal?"

He gestured for her to continue.

Noire fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's…you probably already know what this is about."

Gerome averted his attention to concentrate elsewhere. "I have my suspicions."

Following his gaze, Noire's noticed one young orange-haired girl she recognised revealing herself, waving bashfully before disappearing behind an obstructing wall.

Noire sighed. "I apologise for her. She doesn't mean to…follow you – she only wishes to speak with you in private."

"I'm intimately aware of her honest intentions. I do not, however, appreciate being pursued wherever I go."

Noire acknowledged with a weak nod. "I understand. We've…Severa and I have tried to explain to her _that_ method of approaching somebody is…is intrusive and predatory, and simply unacceptable. I know she doesn't _mean_ to intrude and disturb you. Not at all. It's just…sometimes she becomes a little too confident in herself and how she pursues her ambitions. We know when something is truly concerning her, because only then when will she consult us for support and guidance."

"I…was not aware."

Noire watched with uncertainty as he concentrated on the direction of Cynthia. "Would I be wrong in presuming she has entrusted _you_ with approaching me on her behalf?"

With a nod, Noire confirmed.

"For what reason, may I ask?"

Noire hesitated before answering, desperately trying to summon the appropriate words.

"She's…she's lead herself to believe that you…dislike her."

"I see."

Instead of a rebuttal, Noire watched as Gerome performed the unexpected and reached behind his head to slowly remove his mask. Noire gazed in silent disbelief; she couldn't recall the last time she's seen his unobscured face. It was here Noire was able to better read his demeanour and the remorseful expression he'd developed.

"I thought as much."

Venturing what he was he was going to insinuate, Noire protested before he could. "I _know_ that isn't true, and deep down I think she knows as well."

"If that's the case then I assure the both of you that you have no reason to be concerned about how I perceive her. During our previous encounter, I tried to make myself clear that I do not dislike her personally; that notion couldn't be further from the truth." He averted his eyes. "I do, however, find her…difficult to be with."

Noire empathised. "I think I know what you mean. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her energy a little…exhausting at moments, but that's just who she is. She doesn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Gerome sighed deeply. "I know, and I do _not_ condemn her for that. She's such an exuberant, charismatic spirit, and she mustn't ever let anybody discourage her for that. Her blissful optimism is a quality I truly admire about her. But for a man like me – somebody who prefers seclusion and stillness – her displays of affection are sometimes…challenging and confronting, to say the least."

If Noire's heartbeat accelerated over the praise he cited, she couldn't imagine how Cynthia would react. Noire knew Gerome didn't dislike Cynthia, but she wasn't aware he held her in such regard. However, Noire found herself caught on his final words.

"You know she only behaves this way…because she cares about you, don't you? You and your friendship."

"I know. The issue does not lie with her; it's with _me_." He hesitated. "I understand intimately well she wishes to rekindle a friendship that once was, and I sincerely appreciate the gesture. But I am not the boy she still perceives me as. I wish I still were, but I'm not. She and I – we're no longer the children we once were. We're adults now, and come the time when she accepts that truth, the more compelled I will be to welcome her company."

Noire processed everything he had confessed. Hearing Cynthia's perspective of the story was one thing, but finally hearing Gerome's helped Noire better understand as to why he was so averse to being with her friend. Although it wasn't the answer she'd anticipated, it was one she understood.

"Forgive me if I sound cruel or unforgiving…"

Noire shook her head. "No, don't. Please, you don't need to apologise. I understand exactly what you're trying to say. Thank you for sharing this."

"Can I trust you to relay my explanation in a manner she will understand?"

"Absolutely." Noire bowed politely with a reassuring smile. "You don't need to worry. I'll tell her everything you wish for her to know."

After a moment of inactivity, he returned the smile. "Thank you."

* * *

"Well, here she is - little miss giggles. You certainly took your time. He's a such riot, isn't he?"

Remorseful for her childishness, Noire apologised to Severa for laughing at Gerome's insult, explaining their exchange reminded her of how her parents interact – hence why she found amusement. Although Severa didn't appreciate being humiliated, she confessed she deserved it for provoking the young man.

With knowledge and insight in mind, Noire approached Cynthia, waiting expectantly with a hopeful smile.

"W-well, what did he say?"

Noire returned the smile. "I'm very pleased to confirm…"


	19. Safe to Believe

"He _didn't_!" Cynthia stared with a mixture of shock and excitement; she was thoroughly unconvinced what her friend had shared had been the truth.

Noire reemphasised with equal eagerness. "He _did_."

Cynthia pointed accusingly. "Are you being serious?"

"I _am_."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really really?"

"Yes, _really really_."

"Really really real-"

Severa sighed with frustrated exhaustion. "She _is_. Now, shut up."

Realising she may have overreacted, Cynthia smiled nervously. "OK. Sorry. I just wanted to be sure you were telling the truth."

Noire's smile faltered. "I would never lie about something like that."

Cynthia raised her hands. "I know. I just…wanted to be absolutely sure." As her hands migrated behind her back, she rotated bashfully on the spot. "So…he _really_ said those things? _Really_?"

Another frustrated exhale emitted from Severa.

"Yes, he did. I heard everything."

A puzzled expression appeared on the pig-tailed girl's face. "He thinks I'm…exuberant? Whatever that means. Does it mean something nice?"

"It means enthusiastic", corrected Noire.

Cynthia's face erupted with delight. "Ooh", she whispered breathlessly, "I…I didn't know he felt that way about me." She suppressed a maddening giggle. "Exuberant. That's my new favourite word now. Ex-oo-bear-ant."

"Did you listen to everything else he wished to tell me?" Noire asked reluctantly.

"About what?"

"About your…behaviour?"

Cynthia's ingenuous smiled became one of unease. "Well, yeah. I was gonna think about that, right after I…"

Noire sighed remorsefully. "I shouldn't have approached him about it."

"No, it's not your fault" Cynthia protested, closing the distance and placing her hands on their shoulders. "Thank you" she beamed, "and I'm being serious. Thank you so much for speaking with him for me. _I_ couldn't have."

"Yes, you could've."

"No, I couldn't." Cynthia scoffed. "I'd probably – I _know_ I'd say or do something really embarrassing." After removing her hands, she brought them to her chest. "It's like…it's like every time I'm with him, I just…forget how to function."

"I…I really do hate to be the one tell you this" continued Noire reluctantly, "you probably already know this, but you need to understand that _this_ doesn't permit you to start following him again. He's entrusted me to tell you-"

Cynthia turned accusingly. "I _know_ that. I wasn't going to, alright?"

Having been interrupted, the azure-haired woman fell silent.

Cynthia had never meant to retort so impolitely, considering Noire was only trying to support her. How the young woman hated seeing her often pessimistic friend appearing in such a state, and it hurt even more to know that she'd been the one to evoke the despondency.

With a bitter sigh, Cynthia enveloped her face in her palms. "What do I do? If he still considers me a friend but still doesn't want anything to do with me…"

Removing her hands, she was treated to a hopeful smile from Noire. "Assess this as if you were in a real relationship with him. Just take it slowly."

"But he said doesn't want to me bother him. You said it yourself: he thinks I behave like a child."

"Then don't."

It had been some time since Severa last spoke so her unexpected announcement caught the pair off-guard.

From her seated position, the red-head presented a weak smile. "I can't believe I have to be the one to tell you this, but if you're so desperate to impress him, _actually_ impress him. Be mature. Be confident and intelligent and welcoming", she combed her fingers though her hair bashfully, "and all the other things _we_ see in you – all the qualities that _he_ needs to see."

Cynthia couldn't begin to process everything Severa shared. "You think I'm…confident?"

Severa sighed with defeat. "Yes. You're more confident than anybody I know."

Noire reaffirmed Severa's statement with a nod.

Cynthia could never have predicted Severa to profess something like that; she had a reputation for usually assuming the role of the devil's advocate in most debates. But somehow, hearing _her_ share that supportive insight made it feel all the more endearing and encouraging.

"So, what you're trying to say is: I need to grow up?"

Noire immediately shook her head. "No. No, of course not."

"Well, when you say it like _that_ …" whispered Severa awkwardly.

Amused by their reactions, Cynthia laughed softly. "I _know_ what you mean. I know what you're trying to say. And you're right", she shrugged bashfully, "I _do_ need to grow up. I…I forget how old he and I are." The young woman stomped her foot triumphantly. "And If he wants me to act my age around him, then an adult I will become."

"Do you feel…a little better now?" Noire asked hopefully.

Before the pig-tailed girl answered, a maddening smile spread across her lips – one that usually signaled another one of her unpredictable ideas. "Yep." Cynthia nodded confidently. "In fact, I know exactly what I need to do."

* * *

"I'm going to apply for a job at the post office."

At the conclusion of her triumphant announcement, Cynthia's parents exchanged a glance between one another before erupting into laughter, leaving their bewildered daughter staring in confusion.

"What?"

Cynthia waited impatiently for an answer. Her father eventually complied.

"Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"That's the big surprise – the one you insisted on waiting until tea to tell us about?"

"Yeah" she answered honestly, "and?"

Almost immediately, her parents participated in another session of giggling.

Having not anticipated such a reaction – she herself saw nothing funny about the announcement – Cynthia stared accusingly. "What's so funny?"

After enough time, the two adults restless laughter simmered down, and Sumia addressed her daughter with her usual characteristic hospitality.

"Sorry, sorry" she laughed softly, evidently still amused. "Excuse us. When you _usually_ make a surprise announcement…"

The older woman was interrupted by a snort from her husband, prompting her to as well.

Frustrated by their immaturity, Cynthia folded her arms.

"Sorry" Sumia whispered apologetically, "we expected something a little more unusual. Not something so…normal. We…we didn't realise you were speaking truthfully."

Wounded by her confession, Cynthia pouted with irritation. "I don't see what's so funny" she mumbled, "I'm being serious, you know?"

"How serious?" Her father's notorious smirk appeared.

"More serious than I've ever been about anything."

"Really? Even more so than that time you wanted to run away and join the travelling performing theatre?"

His comeback evoked another laugh from Sumia, who immediately covered her mouth with embarrassment.

Humiliated that he had reminded her of that incident, Cynthia lowered her gaze. "I was nine years old" she whispered, "and that was different. This time I'm being serious."

"And has brought upon this ambition? Have you discovered a new calling in life?" He extended his hand dramatically. "Our daughter – the mailwoman."

Sumia exhaled with exaggerated bliss. "Oh, she will make us so proud."

As her parents returned to exchanging humiliating remarks about her and the prospects of the announcement, Cynthia receded deeper into her chair, emotionally exhausted that her mother and father had misinterpreted her proposal.

With a bitter huff, Cynthia retrieved her cutlery and returned to eating, avoiding eye contact. "Forget I said anything."

"Oh, come now" reassured Sumia, "we're just teasing. We don't really mean anything we say."

"No" retorted Cynthia stubbornly, "I don't even know why I bothered telling you in the first place. I knew you guys wouldn't care. You don't care about anything I try to do."

"Don't be like this" added Gaius.

"Don't be like what?" She hastily returned her gaze with resentment. "I thought you guys would support and encourage me. Here I am actually deciding to finally grow up and apply for employment like someone my age _should_ , and all you do is make fun of me."

Cynthia couldn't begin to understand why they found it so amusing. Was it really so unexpected? All she had wanted some acknowledgement of whether or not they approved of the idea, but all she received was ridicule instead.

A session of unbearable silence enveloped the room before her mother dispelled it, whispering in a soft, apologetic voice.

"We're sorry. We didn't mean to..."

Cynthia slowly returned her attention and studied their honest expressions.

Her father shrugged with defeat. "Yeah, maybe we got a little carried away. We…overreacted."

From their soft tones, Cynthia could tell they were being honest. She couldn't, however, bring herself to forgive them yet.

"It's just", Sumia continued after hesitating, "never before have you expressed interest in employment. We didn't know how to respond to something so unexpected."

Cynthia tried to process the confession. "…Do you not think I should search for a job?"

"No, that's not-"

"Do you think I'm not qualified?"

"No. We don't think that at all", Gaius protested desperately.

If she were being honest, Cynthia too felt unqualified. She'd never maintained any sort of expected responsibility for and was still reluctant to pursue it. This had been the reason she consulted her parents.

"Now come on, tell us a little more."

Cynthia studied their expectant gazes.

"How did you come to this conclusion?" Gaius added. "Before you left home this morning you never once dreamed of applying for a job."

Uncertain if their honesty was a ruse, Cynthia averted her eyes.

"We'll listen" reassured Sumia, "we want to hear this."

These had been the phrases she had hoped to have heard from them, and not the insulting remarks. If it had been under any circumstance, Cynthia wouldn't have hesitated to explain and answer them. But truth be told, _she_ didn't even know why she wished to pursue the delivery service role. Well, there was one reason - a person, specifically, who was employed there.

Cynthia wasn't prepared to share that detail; her parents would certainly object. Instead, she answered with something a little more personal – an answer that wasn't entirely false.

"Well", she began, "because Noire's eighteen now and legally an adult, we were talking today about…growing up and acting our ages, and the things that are expected of us now that we're older. And I kinda thought – well, I didn't think. I _know_ that I haven't grown up – that I still act like a child." She hesitated. "I've decided it's time to be mature and start adopting some adult responsibilities. This is why I thought of applying for a job at the post office – some part-time employment. I know some people 'round about my age are working, so I thought…"

She hastily ceased speaking, fearful she may have revealed her true intentions of impressing the young man employed there.

" _Who_ thinks you act like a kid?" Gaius stared accusingly.

Cynthia shrugged. "Everybody, I guess. They're right."

The young woman observed her mother place a hand over her chest. " _We_ don't think you're a child."

Cynthia couldn't understand what her mother was implying.

Sumia laughed nervously. "Wait, let me rephrase that. You'll always be _our_ child. You'll always be _my_ little girl." A confident smile appeared. "But just because you're unemployed, it doesn't mean you're any less of a woman – of an adult. Age does not always equal maturity."

Turning to her father, he nodded, affirming his wife's statement.

"You don't think I'm…immature?"

She was treated a scoff from her father. "Look who you're talking to. I know people who aren't even a fraction as childish as I am – and they're younger than me." He gestured towards her.

Cynthia acknowledged the compliment with a weak smile.

"Please" added Sumia, "try not to ever let others influence you about how _you_ should behave. If they personally have an issue with you, that's their concern and not yours. If they can't accept you for who you really are, then perhaps they're not somebody you should be associating with."

Cynthia found herself reflecting upon her intentions upon hearing her mother's encouraging but profound piece of insight. Had they really meant to say that to reference Gerome? If so, was her mother right? Was Cynthia trying to associate with somebody she shouldn't? Gerome had made it intimately clear he didn't appreciate her whimsical childishness, and here she had been told she shouldn't try to change who she was to impress somebody else.

Needless to say, Cynthia found all this insight to process very challenging, enough for her to reevaluate her plan. Say she was to mature into an adult - would that inherently mean Gerome would be more inclined to be with her?

After a short time of self-revaluation, Cynthia reached a conclusion: she wasn't going to change for him; she was going to change for herself.

"I know what I'm doing" she answered confidently, "I'm not doing this on account of somebody else. I'm doing this for me…'cause I'd actually like to pursue some part-time employment. Y'know, adopt a responsibility and earn a little money in return."

"Are we being unreasonable?" Gaius teased. "Is so, we could always deduct some money from your weekly allowance."

Cynthia protested immediately. "No! No, that's not what I meant. I meant…"

"We know what you mean", Sumia laughed softly. "So why the post office?"

Cynthia knew the very reason but elected not to share. "I thought the post office delivery service would be appropriate, 'cause if I work there I'd be, y'know, playing to my strengths. I mean – I like travelling, I like meeting new people…"

She watched as a warm smile spread across her mother's lips. "I think you'll make a fine addition to their roster."

"Do you really think so?" Cynthia asked hopefully.

"Absolutely. I would not entrust my parcels with anybody else except my reliable and trustworthy daughter."

Cynthia suppressed a giggle; she had not expected such encouraging praise. "So…you think it's a good idea?"

Her father smirked. "Personally, I don't trust you to brush your teeth in the morning much less handle somebody else's mail. But if you're committed to applying for a job there, you have my complete and total support."

A teasing remark from her father was almost always accompanied by an honest comment, and Cynthia returned the gesture with an appreciative nod.

"I think I need to submit a resume or something before anything else."

Gaius tapped his nose mischievously. "If you want, I could always pull a few strings. I have friends in the industry."

"No, that won't be happening." Sumia protested. "She's an adult now, and she is going to apply responsibly."

Cynthia affirmed with a confident nod, much to her father's exaggerated disappointment. The young woman dismissed the suggestion as a joke. She knew her father had abandoned that lifestyle a long time ago.

"If you'd like" continued Sumia, "I could retrieve an old resume from when I was young. I'm sure I've kept it around her somewhere. We could use it as template for reference when we write yours. Would you…like that? You're more than welcome to write one on you own."

Infinitely relieved and overwhelmed that they had not only approved of her idea but nominated themselves to guide and support her, Cynthia nodded politely." "Thank you", she mumbled bashfully, "I reckon I'm gonna need all the help I can get."


	20. Disorientated

"My word, what a collection. Are we expecting somebody?"

It wasn't everyday Noire returned home with shopping bags, so her father's rhetorical inquiry wasn't unexpected. Noire acknowledged with an apologetic smile.

Placing the bags on the dining table, Noire prepared herself for their catalogue of questions. While her father's curious smile provided some relief, her mother's intense gaze of scrutiny evoked uneasiness as she observed the older woman study the bags.

The dark mage folded her arms. "We trust you haven't exhausted all your money in one day?"

Noire answered anxiously. "I haven't. I promise." Although she did not think she possessed many admiring qualities, Noire did believe herself to be resourceful; she knew spending all her combined allowance and Birthday money in one session was irresponsible and wasteful.

But after following their gazes back to the table, Noire began to reevaluate the situation "Well, p-perhaps I _did_ get a little carried away." The young woman nodded defiantly. "But I promise everything I have purchased is essential and important. W-well, at least to me."

No further explanations needed to be provided following her confession as two adults acknowledged understandingly, expressing their intrigue and curiosity about the possible contents of the shopping bags, albeit with differing degrees of enthusiasm; her father was very much excited while her mother wished to know about the contents like any concerned parent would.

Although relieved to hear they weren't disappointed about her excessive purchases – she even went as far as to retrieve her purse and show how much money she still retained – Noire was abruptly reminded of one of the activities she'd partaken in that afternoon – one that she was certain her parents would've disapproved of.

Even after permitting them to inspect the inside of her bags, Noire couldn't dispel her conflicting emotions, each trying to coerce into either telling her parents the truth or keeping the incident a secret. It was all very overwhelming for the young woman, and either method would only make her feel worse than she already did.

Noire was not a confrontational person, and informing her parents of her behavior would no doubt invite displeasure and disappointment. But during her life, Noire had come to understand the dangers of lying and withholding secrets, especially ones that involved misbehaving; she knew being dishonest would only create even more tension.

Rationalising that they deserved to know the truth (and that she herself deserved a punishment for her actions), Noire finally reached a conclusion; it wasn't the one she wanted to pursue rather the one she needed to.

"Before you do" she announced reluctantly, "there's something I…must confess. Today, during my time with my friends...I did something t-terrible."

If her heart wasn't already beating anxiously enough, her uneasiness and regret only intensified upon witnessing the concern and doubt appear on her their faces.

Holding her breath, Noire bowed apologetically. "I drank today" she whispered, "I tried...alcohol."

Closing her eyes, Noire contested with herself emotionally to try and contain the tears developing behind her eyes. "I'm…ever so sorry. I promise it will never happen again." Returning her gaze, she concentrated on them. "Please, forgive me."

The absence of an immediate verbal response was concerning as she studied them, desperate to read their expressions. She'd prepared herself to the best of her abilities for the reprehension and scolding she deserved. What she didn't anticipate, however, was the small smile of bewildered amusement to appear on her mother's lips.

"And this is a cause for alarm?"

Noire couldn't interpret whether her mother was speaking earnestly or not and refrained from answering.

Her father proved to be more reasonable as he inquired politely. "How much did you drink?"

"Only a sip, I swear."

A sincere smile emerged. "Then you have nothing to apologise for."

If her mother's enthusiasm caught her off-guard, her father's unexpected positive reassurance was even more startling; why did he insist that she had no reason to be apologetic? She'd only been eighteen for less than a week and she'd already consumed alcohol without their approval.

Noire protested defiantly. "No, I do. I…I do need to apologise, b-because I did not-"

The anxious young woman refrained from speaking upon witnessing her father politely gesture for her to lower her voice. It was only after did she realise how impulsive and irrational she must have sounded.

"You're an adult now, Noire", Virion announced, "and should you ever feel compelled to purchase alcohol, you are legally permitted to. We cannot stop you."

Noire intended to protest but could not after seeing her mother project the same honesty and sincerity. "…We only trust that you drink responsibly."

After sampling a mouthful of what might have been the vilest beverage to grace her taste buds, Noire had no intentions of ever trying it again; much less actually purchasing it with her own money.

"I will. I promise. I…will never try it again."

Their amused smiles returned, and Noire experienced embarrassment and humiliation.

"We don't expect that of you" Tharja whispered. "A sample of alcohol now and then is perfectly reasonable."

Her mother's statement had been the very same insight offered by her friends, who also saw no harm in her consuming alcohol. Noire sighed deeply; perhaps everybody was right? Perhaps she was overreacting? In hindsight, she acknowledged her confession may have been a tad overdramatic – but it was only because of the guilt she harboured. It wasn't the act of drinking alcohol that upset her rather what it symbolised – a betrayal of her parents' trust.

Still, she concluded that her clouded, guilty conscience should be put to rest; her parents had forgiven her and accepted an apology, and that's all she could've hoped for.

Noire replied softly. "W-well, it probably won't ever happen again, but if for whatever reason I do wish for more, I promise I'll ask for permission first."

Her father acknowledged with a sincere smile which was accompanied by her mother's affirming nod. "Thank you. We appreciate your honesty" he announced.

Before she could continue to express her sincerest apologies, she was interrupted by an audible clap as her father brought his hands together.

"Now, I believe you were about to indulge us a little with your most recent purchases."

Following his gaze, Noire's eyes widened; she'd completely forgotten. Reinvigorated with renewed excitement, Noire nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes. But only if you don't mind."

Virion reciprocated her enthusiasm and migrated beside her. "My curiosity intensifies with every passing second."

With relief (and fear), Noire was treated to her mother's typical, mischievous smile. "I too wish to know how _my_ money has been invested."

Noire acknowledged her mother's remark with an uneasy smile, having being reminded of who supplied a good percentage of her allowance.

With her parent's attention, Noire commenced with her presentation as an unexpected but familiar thrill of energy and anticipation tickled her stomach – the same kind of flustered excitement she experienced in her youth every time she intended on presenting something she was particularly proud or fond of, whether it be a personal creation or accomplishment.

As Noire introduced each purchased item, she came to understand why an outsider (especially somebody like her mother) may dismiss some of her purchases as 'childish' or 'juvenile', and Noire acknowledged this assessment.

While some items were accepted, an explanation or two was asked for some items such as knitting wool and cookie-cutter shapes in addition to other cooking utensils. With some embarrassment, she confessed she wished to hopefully improve her abilities with baking and fabric construction, explaining her friends' mothers had offered to assist and tutor her, and Noire concluded to demonstrate some initiative by purchasing her own materials.

Although her father commended her efforts, these were accompanied with bewildered smirks from her mother. Disheartened at first, Noire realised her mother was only teasing harmlessly.

With each item removed from the bag, Noire began to arrange and store them in the appropriate locations around the room; the ones that didn't belong in her bedroom. After depositing her cooking utensils in the kitchen, Noire returned to her parents, only to discover them concentrating on a small wooden case in her mother's hands, specifically the contents.

As she approached, Noire was able to inspect what it was – the set of knives she'd purchased. However, Noire suddenly hesitated when she witnessed their expressions of shock and fear.

She recoiled slightly upon witnessing her mother's anguished gaze. "And these are for…?" The dark mage asked cautiously.

Studying their demeanours, Noire rationalised that discovering a set of knives would've been quite a surprise for them, and offered a hopeful smile as she explained herself. "Well, y-you've each said you've been meaning to teach me how to properly prepare and serve carvery, and since I don't already own a set, I thought I'd…buy some for myself."

As Noire waited for their responses, she was growing uneasy by their silence and inactivity. Exchanging a smile between them, she'd nodded softly; reaffirming what she'd said had been the truth.

But as the silence prolonged and their contrite expressions worsened, Noire began to suspect they weren't convinced. She tried to process why they persisted in appearing so anxious; she hadn't exaggerated at all. It was only after witnessing them exchange a frightened gaze did she conclude what they suspected the purpose of the sharp instruments was – and the devastating realisation impacted her like a strike to the head.

As her heart began to race feverishly, Noire immediately raised her hands, desperately and pleadingly. "No" she protested through trembling lips, "it's not for _that_ reason. No! Oh, goodness, no!" She shook her head violently. "Please! I promise it's not!"

As the spiteful, vindictive voices within her conscience returned, so did the unpleasant, debilitating repressed memories. Noire clutched her torso tightly, "oh, what have I done? I shouldn't - I should've _never_ …"

Her self-reflection was interrupted by the presence of her parents hastily appearing by her side. As her father delicately removed her arms to prevent her from suffocating herself, Noire was treated to a warm sensation gracing her cheeks. Through fearful eyes, she was able to witness her mother cradling her cheeks gently.

"Noire, be still, please." Tharja whispered anxiously. "Please, I was not insinuating anything. I…I misunderstood you. Please, stop."

Retreating into her mind, Noire tried to focus on the instructions she'd been provided by Robin whenever she felt herself succumbing to an anxiety or panic attack: intently concentrate on something to stabilise her breathing and thinking. To recover from her momentary relapse, Noire stared deeply into her mother's eyes, whose frightened demeanor slowly turned to one of hopeful optimism.

As her parent's whispered softly, reassuring her she was safe and that they never meant to frighten her, Noire concentrated on her breathing which steadily returned to a stable and balanced pace. With her anxious energy finally contained, Noire was able to think clearly again.

Her parent's hopeful expressions were welcomed changes; if nothing else, she was so relieved to see they weren't hurt by her actions.

Noire pleaded with her eyes. "I swear I didn't…"

She was immediately answered with gentle head shakes of protest."It's OK", Tharja whispered, "we believe you." Virion reaffirmed with a comforting nod.

Noire was repulsed with herself. Reflecting on the relapse evoked anger and disappointment; she hated herself for overreacting and frightening her parents because of simple misunderstanding.

She couldn't tell whether her mother was comforting or pitying her upon witnessing the dark mage extend her arms, offering an embrace – but Noire despised herself for ever considering the latter. As she accepted and returned the embrace, Noire attempted to control her emotions but to no avail as a soft whimper escaped her lips, inviting her mother to cradle her tighter as her father gently caressed the back of her shoulder.

Noire squeezed her eyes tightly shut. And just when she thought she'd improved.


	21. Electric Storm

As she absentmindedly removed and her shoes and lazily tossed them beside the front door, Severa casually greeted her father. "Hey."

"Ah, you're home now. Finally. At last."

Her father's unexpected appearance and posture came under her scrutiny as soon as she returned home; it was as if he'd waited patiently for her arrival. Severa suppressed a groan; she suspected he wished to delight her with a recount of his latest discoveries in dissecting animal corpses. Although she personally did not share the same passion, she would respect her father's ambition by, at the very least, listening politely. She only hoped he wouldn't invite her to assist him during his next experiment.

Her father's insistent gaze was the first sign she interpreted as a signal that something was amiss. Rather than proceed with his recount, he continued to study her intently, demonstrating uncharacteristic patience. It wasn't like her father to be quiet. In fact, it had been over a minute and he still hadn't told a joke. Something was definitely troubling him.

"Yeah?" She encouraged him to continue, but to no response. From his uncharacteristic nervousness, Severa reached the most rational conclusion: she'd obviously misbehaved again.

Severa sighed with displeasure. "What's wrong? What have I done now?"

"Well" he began, tilting his head, "it's not so much what you've done rather what you haven't."

"What?"

The older man revealed his white teeth. "What did you get up to while you were out, if you don't mind me asking?" From his tone, he was definitely attempting to sound optimistic and cheerful, but his traditional charisma was absent.

"I just hung out with my friends – like I said before I left."

Henry nodded understandingly. "Good. I just…wanted to be sure."

Severa couldn't understand why he insisted on inquiring about her day; it's not like she'd done anything else.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Visible reluctance is a quality she'd never thought she'd ever see in her father; she'd couldn't recall ever seeing him without a smile for less than a minute. Whatever she'd committed was evidently very stressing.

"Did you forget something was happening today - something really important?"

The sudden realisation impacted her like a powerful strike to the head. Severa's entire body stiffened; she'd been so distracted with her friends that she'd completely forgotten about an arrangement – her mother had scheduled an appointment to document her dress fitting for an upcoming wedding.

Overwhelmed, Severa enveloped her face with her palms and released an disgruntled groan; just how could she have been so careless with her time?

After composing herself, Severa returned her attention to her father. "I completely forgot."

Henry nodded understandingly. "I thought as much" he replied. He laughed uneasily. "You must have been _pretty_ distracted."

"I was. I didn't…!"

Severa brought a hand to her chest. "I swear I didn't do this intentionally. I seriously forgot. Honestly."

Her father acknowledged, " _I_ believe you" before gesturing behind him with his thumb. "But I'm not too sure the Boss will be so forgiving or understanding. I think they're the one who deserves an apology and explanation."

Even without using the playful nickname the pair of them shared to describe the eldest female in the household, Severa understood his statement; if her father was disappointed in her on account of her late arrival, she didn't want to imagine how her mother was.

"Is Mum…upset with me?"

"I've spoken to her" he reassured. "Well, I've _tried_ to. She's settled down…for now. But you should've seen her earlier."

Severa was relieved to hear that her mother had relaxed, but this information didn't instill much hope or confidence.

"Can't you cast a spell on her something – make her calm down?" Severa was desperate; she'd accept any method no matter how farfetched and unorthodox, so long as she couldn't incur her mother's fury.

But as she solemnly expected, her father answered with a shake of his head. "If I could, you know I would. But that wouldn't be the right thing to do, would it?"

Severa regretfully acknowledged; asking her father to deliberately influence her mother's attitude wasn't the right course of action.

Dropping her arms by her side, Severa presented a forced a smile, "I guess it's time to face the music, huh?" Turning face, she was about to proceed down the hallway when her father's hand unexpectedly graced her shoulder, Severa was astonished to discover her father's face devoid of any emotion constituting to amusement or enthusiasm; she couldn't recall the last time ever witnessing him without a smile.

"Just apologise" he whispered, "please?"

If her father expressed concern or distress, then the circumstance must have been quite serious, ventured Severa. She'd already disappointed her mother; she didn't intend on repeating it with her father.

After reassuring him she would behave respectfully, she was offered a 'thumbs up' for encouragement. And with nothing else needed to be said, Severa commenced with her slow, methodic walk down the hallway.

To combat her reluctance, Severa capatilised on the short distance between her and the inescapable outcome and mentally prepared herself for the confrontation, electing to rehearse what she intended to say. Apologising for transgressions was a quality Severa had never truly possessed, so the red-head reminded herself that she was the one exclusively responsible; she couldn't differ the blame this time. She only hoped her mother would offer some forgiveness; how she wished they wouldn't argue again.

Arriving at the doorway, Severa's entire body tensed upon observing her mother pacing back and forth across the room, starting intently at the floor with her arms folded tightly. Severa concluded that possibly sneaking past the older woman undetected was not the appropriate the action; she'd misbehaved, and she needed to make amends. With this attitude in mind, Severa closed her eyes, summoned what minimal amount of confidence and composure she could, and slowly revealed herself.

No less than a few seconds later did Cordelia acknowledge her presence. Severa tensed; evidently, the older woman was still very distressed if their intense glare was a signal to go by.

Severa acknowledged that a punishment was inescapable, but the young red-head still wished to explain herself. "B-before you yell at me, let me just-"

She was abruptly silenced by her mother as she swiftly closed the distance. "Where in God's name have you been!?" The usually polite and passive woman erupted unexpectedly. "Did you not remember what we arranged this afternoon!?"

For what seemed like the first time since she was a youth, Severa was frightened by her mother. And this intimidation ultimately prevented her from speaking clearly. "I…I did" she whispered, "I just - I got distracted."

If only for a split-second, her mother's face was unreadable. Then, a scoff of disbelief escaped their mouth. "Do you honestly expect me to accept that as an excuse? You understood intimately well that I expected you home after midday. It's nearly sundown! I demand to know what you've been doing that was so important that you were compelled abandon a promise you made to me."

Severa caught her breath. "I didn't abandon-"

Cordelia shook her head fiercely. "No, you _promised_ me you would return the time we arranged. I _tried_ to explain the urgency of this situation and how important is for us to document your size and select an suitable outfit befor the wedding, but you insisted that you needed to be with your friends. I tried to be reasonable. I did not wish to be so demanding so I offered you with the time you desired - time to socialise with your friends. And in return, you promised me you would return on time." Her glare intensified. "I trusted you. I realise now it was a mistake to entrust you with such a simple responsibility."

With every single word expressed, Severa's emotional state worsened – to the point where she couldn't bring herself to address her mother in their disappointed eyes.

"I…I didn't mean to-"

Severa returned her attention hesitantly to meet her mother's expectant gaze.

"Tell me: what on Earth have you been doing?"

"I…I was with my friends. We were shopping, like I said before I left."

Cordelia shook her head. "And your exploration of the markets took up the entire afternoon? I'm not convinced."

Beneath her reluctance and apprehension, impatience and frustration slowly began to develop in the young red-head; irritated that her mother was so eager to disprove her honest answers and explanations. Severa understood intimately well not to provoke her mother during a state of anger, but the older woman's blatant refusal to listen to honest reasoning wasn't welcome, and certainly not after how forgiving her father had been.

"We didn't just spend time in the markets" declared Severa seriously. "We had some lunch, we went to the pub…"

"You were drinking!?" Cordelia interrupted, shocked and appalled. "On today of all days?"

"We weren't! We were just…"

Severa exhaled deeply to compose herself; the last thing she wanted was for their discussion to devolve into another verbal argument.

"We bought Noire a glass of cider now that she's an adult, and we…"

Upon noticing the visible shock on her mother's face, Severa fell silent, cursing herself for revealing that detail.

"You mean to tell me that the reason you couldn't make it to our appointment was because you were forcing Noire into drinking alcohol?" The older woman brought a hand to her forehead in disbelief. "Severa, I don't believe this!"

Severa grinded her teeth together impatiently. "It wasn't like that…"

"This is…"

Cordelia released an extended exhale after closing her eyes and lightly rubbing her temples. The gesture evoked annoyance from Severa; in addition to her noncompliance to listen, her mother's overreactions were qualities she was coming to despise during their conversation.

After a moment of silence, her mother removed her hands and concentrated once more, her disappointment visible in her eyes. Severa ventured she was about to receive her punishment. But the response was one was she wasn't prepared for.

"I expected better of you."

Hurt and contrite had evolved into resentment and hatred as the young woman stared incredulously at her mother. Severa couldn't believe what she'd heard; did they really just play that card? It had been a simple misplacement of priorities, and here her mother was accusing her as if she'd committed a crime.

"What? Like how you expect me to get all dressed up for a social gathering I don't even care about?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Severa folded her arms irritably. "What do you even need me there for? She's your friend; not mine." Severa didn't understand why her mother was so insistent about the wedding. Severa could barely remember what she'd eaten for breakfast much less some random woman she'd met when she was a child.

"I do not need you there, but I _want_ you to attend. This is non-negotiable. You know damn well how important this is for not only me but everybody else anticipating your attendance. I expect you to attend as the respectful and mature adult I know you are and not this irresponsible little girl before me."

Severa glared and whispered bitterly. "…Said the pot to the kettle..."

A remark like that normally would've evoked an immediate response, but rather than a rebuttal, Severa observed as her mother's persistent scowl turned to one of exhaustion; this was accompanied by a deep exhale. Evidently, the older woman did not wish to continue arguing any further.

Cordelia brought a hand to her chest and whispered pleadingly. "I understand you may have some reservations, but I promise it's only for anafternoon. You will survive. This is important to me, and I had hoped you would respect that and my wishes."

That statement angered Severa more that it really should have. She acknowledged her mother was upset, but how dare they insinuate _she_ was the one being unreasonable. She clenched her fists; all she had done that evening upon arriving home was try to explain herself honestly. Her mother's blatant lack of self-reflection was astounding, and Severa wasn't prepared to let her have the final word.

"And what do you wish? To show me off to all the other mothers and their daughters? To boast about what _I've_ accomplished? As if you've ever cared about anything I've ever done…"

She observed as her mother's contrite expression worsened. "That's not true. You know that isn't true."

Severa was beyond listening. "They'd all know I'd be faking – they'd know I'd be an imposter. Because that perfect little golden child you intend on introducing - that's not me, and it never will be!"

Now inches apart from one another, the two red-heads stared intently into each other's eyes; Severa may've been intimidated before, but she certainly wasn't after the stubborn and unreasonable behavior her mother had demonstrated.

"This is not about you" declared Cordelia. "The world does not revolve around _you_. For once – just for _once_ – could you try thinking of somebody else?"

Severa scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, maybe as soon as _you_ do, you selfish cow."

Her mother's unexpected movement caught Severa completely unprepared, and it was only after a few seconds did Severa acknowledge the stinging sensation emanating from her left cheek. In disbelief, Severa slowly brought a hand to inspect it and was shocked to discover it was painful to the touch. Severa was speechless; had her mother really struck her?

Her suspicion was all but confirmed by her mother's intense glare. "Don't you ever call me that again! How dare you!?"

Severa's primal instincts after being assault compelled her to retaliate with a strike of her own, and after everything she and her mother had exchanged, there was nothing she could've wanted to do more that to hurt the older woman to demonstrate how she felt.

With balled fists trembling with anger, Severa was an inch away from committing the most unforgivable mistake of her life when she desperately stopped herself, rationalising that retaliating would not resolve anything; it would only increase the separation between her and her mother even further. Instead, Severa stamped her foot forcefully and migrated past them towards the stairs. But not before sharing one final detail.

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are! I've arranged another appointment for tomorrow morning and you are to accompany me. This is final and not up for negotiation."

Severa gripped the staicase's rail tightly. "I'm. Not. Going."

"Severa…"

"Are you deaf!? I said I'm not going! I don't care about this dress fitting, I don't care about this stupid wedding - oh, and guess what? I don't f*cking care about you or what you expect of me!"

After hastily ascending the stairs and abandoning the woman she assaulted unforgivingly, the young woman's verbal eruption was accompanied by the slamming of her bedroom door; she didn't care for a second what kind of damage the impact would produce.

Secluded in the privacy and comfort of her bedroom, Severa's eyes anxiously surveyed her bedroom for an invaluable item to propel to the ground; anything she could use to channel and release the seething anger consuming her being. She settled with the curtain blinds, which she angrily removed from the windows.

It wasn't enough; she needed to break, dismantle or damage something else. The items assembled on her bedroom cosmetics table were the next victims of her rampage; combs, hairbrushes and straighteners soon decorated the floor of bedroom. But before she could further damage her cherished belongings, an unfamiliar sight caught her attention: her reflection in her bedroom mirror.

Inspecting it further, Severa was in disbelief; she was sweating profusely, her cheeks matched the colour of her hair, and the intensity of anger she saw in her eyes was truly confronting. That young woman in the mirror – was it really her?

Overwhelming remorse and regret enveloped Severa as she averted her attention from the mirror to the destruction she'd inflicted on her bedroom. It hadn't been the first time she'd vandalised her bedroom, and under any other circumstance, she wouldn't have hesitated to clean up after herself. But in this instance, Severa couldn't summon the effort to. She was hurt, resentful, disappointed and penitent – but most of all, she was exhausted.

Migrating towards her bed, Severa collapsed and clutched a pillow tightly against her cheek, which provided just enough obstruction to suppress the sounds of her whimpering.

Her mother had been right to hit her; she _was_ a selfish girl.


	22. Out of the Blue

Cynthia concluded that her unease and uncertainty was nothing more than fear of the unknown; she was definitely overreacting. Having abolished those thoughts, Cynthia ascended the stairs to the post office, assessing her application one last time. She had her mother to thank for recording most of the information. If not for them, Cynthia feared she might not have been able to produce any.

Clutching her resume tightly, Cynthia released a haste exhale through her nose before entering. She repeated her mother's encouraging words to herself once more:

 _Be polite, be confident, but most importantly, be yourself._

The interior nature was just as she anticipated; it was reasonably busy but not overpopulated. The waiting line for personal appointments, however, was unexpectedly long. Cynthia silently groaned to herself; she hated waiting. But good things came to those who waited, and she was more than prepared to endure.

Marching inward, she assumed her position at the back of the line. She wouldn't let anything distract and break her poised demeanour; not the jar of lollies intended for children; not the said children indulging in said lollies; not the handsome young man emerging from offices; not the… wait!

Cynthia couldn't understand why she found the appearance of Gerome so unexpected; his employment there was part of the reason she was applying. Still, the presence of her crush evoked excitement. His trademark mask was even absent from his face, offering her an unobstructed view of his eyes and cheekbones.

Without considering her surroundings, Cynthia announced herself. "Hey, Gerome!"

She quickly came to realise he may have elevated her voice a little higher than expected as all eyes occupying the room became affixed to her, but none more important to her than Gerome who stared at her with uncharacteristic shock and bewilderment.

Cynthia knew she had to divert the unwanted attention. "I mean - good morning, anonymous citizen whom I've never interacted with before."

The wandering eyes returned to their activities. Cynthia smiled, confident that she'd successfully recovered.

Returning to Gerome, she watched him as he hastily proceeded towards the door with his gaze averted. Cynthia didn't mind sacrificing her place in the line so long as she could properly introduce herself.

"Hey" she announced again, albeit not nearly as loudly.

The young man abruptly stopped and turned around to confront her. It was here when Cynthia discovered his intense glare.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Cynthia recoiled slightly from the accusing tone. "Applying for a job" she confessed.

" _What_?"

"I am."

"You must be exaggerating."

"I'm _not_ " she declared, offering her application for him to study. "I've got my resume and everything – see?"

Without so much as a glance towards her resume, Cynthia hesitantly retracted it.

"Are you trying to jeopardise my position here? If so, I do not appreciate this ruse at all."

Cynthia shook her head. "I'm not trying to ruin anything. I'm being serious. I want to apply for a job."

He folded his arms. "And of all the available working establishments in the kingdom, you conclude on applying for a role where I'm employed?"

"What a kawinky-dink, right?" She offered a nervous smile in addition to her fabricated answer.

Gerome evidently didn't understand the humour; his glare persisted. "Do you take me for a fool? It's quite obvious you were informed of my position here by Noire."

Cynthia scoffed exaggeratedly. "Noire? Who's that? I've never heard them before."

No visible and verbal reaction was offered by him; all Cynthia could conclude was that he wasn't impressed with her insistent lying.

Cynthia released a remorseful exhale. "OK, maybe she _did_ tell me that you work here but I swear _that's_ not the reason I'm applying."

Before continuing, Cynthia hesitated, taking time to rehearse how she wished to explain her motivation. "I've given myself some time to reevaluate my goals in life, and I've decided it's time to…to grow up – it's time to start acting my age." She nodded confidently. "I want to change. I want to start behaving like an adult; the way people expect me to behave. And when Noire informed me that you've started working, I was…I was really inspired. I thought, 'hey, maybe that's something I should consider too.'" She shrugged bashfully, " _that's_ why I'm here."

Holding her breath, Cynthia studied him intently; she hoped he would accept her explanation. Although still she'd withheld some information – she still hoped the two of them would become better acquainted with another ultimately – her explanation had been the honest truth.

"Forgive me if I'm not completely convinced."

Cynthia couldn't find an excuse to protest; after all, if she were in his position, she too would've found the circumstance suspicious.

"I didn't think you would…"

She shook her head and offered a hopeful smile. "Anyway, I…look forward to working with you. I can only imagine what we're gonna get up to together. It'll be like a revival of the Justice Cabal or something. Do you remember that from when we were young?"

"That's assuming your application is accepted. I trust you aren't pursuing a distraction or an outlet for your amusement and entertainment."

"No, I'm not."

"I treat this privilege with the commitment and dedication that is expected; it's about accepting responsibility."

"I _know_ , and I understand that." She rubbed her arm bashfully. "I'm ready to accept responsibility. I might not have been since last we spoke, but I am now. I know I can do this. I promise I'm not doing this for fun. I'm doing this 'cause I want to change…for me."

Expressing and sharing her personal convictions had never been Cynthia's strongest quality – and certainly not with Gerome; somebody she'd hope would come to value her more than just a childhood associate. But if Cynthia was to try and make her vision a reality, she would need to employ the changes she'd declared for herself. He was a contributing factor as to why she wished to change. If she could treat him with the respect he deserved, perhaps he too could return the sentiments.

The young man's tense demeanour visibly softened. "That's very admirable of you."

Such a simple piece of positive validation impacted Cynthia more than they really should have. "Thanks. That – to hear _you_ say that means more than you think."

Gerome acknowledged with a nod. "I must take my leave now. I'm expected to perform my rounds."

Not realising she'd been staring, Cynthia hastily recovered and bid him farewell. "Good luck" she exclaimed, "I'll see you 'round." She waited for a response before inquiring. "Get it? _Round_?"

No indication that he understood her joke or if he'd even heard her. Instead, the brunette exited through the entrance.

Cynthia smirked confidently. _He got it._

* * *

After arriving at the counter and explaining her situation, Cynthia was proposed the offer of submitting her application to one of the managers in person. Following her escort, Cynthia arrived outside one of the workplace offices. Before entering, Cynthia discreetly peered inside first to see who she'd be speaking with. Situated behind a desk with a quill in hand sat a middle-aged woman who appeared no older than her mother. She must have been one of the managers, concluded Cynthia. With their gaze affixed to a document on the table, the older woman appeared to be deep in concentration. Cynthia elected to announce her presence politely to avoid disrupting them. In spite of her lingering fear and reluctance, Cynthia still persevered, summoned her courage and gently knocked on the open door.

The older woman's attention slowly migrated from the document to her, and Cynthia was greeted with a welcoming smile. "Yes?"

Waving politely, Cynthia entered. She understood that the management would not only assess her resume but how she presented herself as well; it was paramount that she appeared confident and capable.

Cynthia offered her resume. "Hello. My name is Cynthia. I'm eighteen years old, and I would very much like to apply for any available employment positions you may have here."

The woman accepted her application, studying the cover profile briefly. "Thank you for that."

Cynthia watched as they pulled a drawer out from the desk and placed the resume inside before resuming writing.

The normally charismatic young woman stared in bewilderment.. Was that it? Was she just expected to take her leave? Were all submissions conducted like this?

"Oh, um…" she announced absentmindedly, prompting the older woman to return her attention.

Embarrassed, Cynthia smiled. "Sorry, but…when can I expect a response?"

"Well, myself and the rest of the board will need time to evaluate your application to determine if you're eligible, and that may take anywhere between a few days or a fortnight."

"…OK."

"Should we consider offering you a position, we will contact you with a letter posted to the address provided."

Having received a conclusive answer, Cynthia bowed respectfully. "Thank you. I think I understand now."

Exchanging haste glances between the older woman and the door, Cynthia was unsure whether or not she should take her leave having already consumed enough of their time.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

The older woman's hopeful smile comforted Cynthia as she concluded now was the most opportune time to inquire further about the employment process.

Cynthia cleared her throat before continuing. "Is there…anything I can do to maybe increase my chances of being hired?"

"Well, no, not really. We want to offer every applicant an equal opportunity; no unfair advantages."

"I understand that. t's just - is there anything else I should provide other than a resume?"

"What did you have in mind?"

Struggling to offer an explanation, Cynthia fell silent.

"Do you have more to offer – any proof of prior employment or experience?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Um…no, I don't." She sighed bitterly. "I'm sorry. It was a dumb question."

"It wasn't" they reassured. "You're more than welcome to inquire about anything. I wasn't at all unlike you when I was you're age, and I understand the employment process can be daunting for some."

Cynthia watched as they removed the documents and writing quills from the desk as they retrieved her resume from the drawer.

"I can see that this is a new experience for you. I'm not really supposed to do this, but if you'd like I'd be more than willing to quickly assess your resume before it's submitted."

"…I'd really appreciate that. Thank you."

Holding her breath, Cynthia patiently as the older woman studied her resume carefully. The butterflies returned in her stomach; would her application suffice?

The woman nodded absentmindedly, her attention still affixed to the application. "You live reasonably close" they mused, "we can definitely manage with your address. Sociable. Confident; cooperates well with others; capable of demonstrating leadership and initiative…"

After a moment of tension, Cynthia was treated to an affirming smile. "These are all very admirable qualities."

Cynthia sighed with relief.

The older woman returned to the application, turning the page to the next article. "Additional skills and techniques: active and exercises often; confident when speaking with strangers…"

Although a smile had been present on Cynthia's lips for the better part of the evaluation, it slowly began to falter when an expression of confusion appeared on the woman's face.

They raised an eyebrow. "Not colour-blind; can count to one hundred; not afraid of the dark…"

It was only after hearing another person recite those 'qualities' did Cynthia realise how childish she sounded for including them.

The older woman smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, but these qualities you've listed won't impress."

Cynthia nodded with defeat, cursing herself for disobeying her mother and altering the resume they'd spent the afternoon writing by including additional details without her parent's approval.

"Shall I erase them?"

"…Yes, please. Thank you."

As the woman removed the irrelevant qualities, Cynthia took the time to reflect and assess what other references of information she could use as substitutes; some that would hopefully prove more beneficial and impressive. It wasn't long before she arrived at an idea - and one she was certain would elevate her chances.

"I never listed it on there, but I thought you should know that my parents fought in the war between the kingdoms."

"And? So did my siblings."

Cynthia offered a hopeful smile. "Doesn't that count for something?"

Evidently, the older woman wasn't impressed. "Your parents' history won't influence our opinion of _you_. Are you trying to appeal with nepotism?"

"No, no!" Cynthia shook her head desperately before hesitating. "Wait…yes? Am I? Is _that_ a good thing? Nep-uh-tism? Sorry, I don't know what that word means."

No response. Instead, the older woman studied her curiously. "How old did you say you were?"

"…Eighteen."

They returned to the application. "Right…"

Cynthia's entire body tense from the unexpected reaction. She was almost certain she'd jeopardised her chances for employment if the unbearable silence was a signal to go by.

After a moment of inactivity, the woman removed her glasses before addressing Cynthia with a contrite demeanour.

"Please don't misunderstand me" she began softly, "I mean what I'm saying in the most honest and truthful manner, and I don't mean to offend or insult you." They exhaled. "Perhaps you'd feel a little more comfortable applying for employment elsewhere; somewhere a little more accessible and manageable for those without much experience."

Cynthia felt her stomach sink as a frail "oh" managed to escape her lips.

"Please don't take this to heart" they reassured, "I'm sure you're an outstanding young woman. But to phrase this manner you'll hopefully understand: your resume isn't quite as compelling or impressive as some of the others we've received. The references some have cited documenting their years of prior experience – that's the information we'll be looking for."

"…I thought you said that wasn't important."

The woman smiled apologetically. "It is. We want to be sure we're employing people we can trust and depend upon."

"You can trust me! I'm a really hard worker. I'm…I'm loyal and dependable, and I don't ever hesitate to help out whenever I can."

"I believe you. But your chance for employment over others just doesn't appear very likely. I'm sorry."

There were a thousand and one qualities and attributes Cynthia could have offered for reasons as to why she should be employed, but she quickly came to realise nothing she could say would suffice. Instead, Cynthia averted her eyes and sighed with disappointment.

"Why do you want to work here specifically, if you don't me asking?" The woman asked politely, smiling. "Is there not anywhere else you'd like to try? If you're still seeking employment, I'd be more than happy to offer some referrals."

An explanation as to why she desired employment in that particular business was something her mother had asked for too, and although Cynthia trusted them more than anybody else, she still couldn't justify telling the truth – explaining her true motivations. There were many contributing factors – an outlet for personal experience and growth was the reason she'd offered her mother – but at the core, there was one pivotal reason: one of the employees.

Cynthia instinctively knew her mother would protest the arrangement, but she'd already set her heart upon the prospect. She was determined to grow up - and who better than to guide and support her than the very boy who inspired her in the first place? Even though her mother might not understand, perhaps her potential employer would? After all, they deserved an honest explanation.

"Well, there is _one_ reason." Cynthia began reluctantly, "you know the guy that works here – the one that's always wearing a mask? His name is Gerome."

"The wyvern rider? Yes, I'm familiar with them."

Cynthia laughed nervously. "This is a little embarrassing to admit, but I really like him – and I mean _really_ like him. The thing is…I don't think he likes me very much. Well, he used to like me when we were younger. But now – not so much anymore. I'm hoping that by working beside him in an environment like this, we can become connected again. An opportunity like this will really help me improve upon my social skills with him. I'm really hoping for him to start seeing me in a different light."

Even though she'd professed the honest truth – a confession she wouldn't even dare tell her own parents - from the woman's blank expression, they weren't impressed, unfortunately.

"We run a postal service here; not one for match-making" they explained bluntly. "Workplace relationships aren't factors we're particularly concerned about, but if you're applying solely for the intent on associating romantically with another member of staff, then I'm afraid we will not be accepting you."

"That's not the main reason! I'm not-"

The woman offered the resume back. "I'm afraid you may need to seek employment elsewhere. Thank you."

Unprepared to accept defeat, Cynthia was determined to change their mind. "Can I please just a have a chance to maybe prove myself? I don't have to deliver mail. I'll do anything that involves working here. I'll…I'll work at the counter. I'll clean up the place after hours…"

"My dear, please…"

"There's so much else I can do as well!" She anxiously listed any and all additional qualities she could think of on her fingers. "I'm really athletic – I can run, like, super-fast! I can hold my breath for up to a minute! I know how to juggle! I can fly a Pegasus! I'm really good at-"

"Hold on."

Rising to her feet, the older woman extended a finger, bringing Cynthia's desperate reciting of personal qualities to a halt.

An expression of curiosity now graced the woman's face. "Excuse me for interrupting, but did you say you're able to fly a Pegasus?"

"…Yeah."

"Truthfully?"

Cynthia nodded accordingly. "…I know how to fly. I've been riding since I was ten."

A smile of intrigue appeared. "Do you still have access to one? Do you have one in possession?"

"Well, sort of. She's not really mine though; she's my mother's from when she fought for Ylisse. But I've kind of inherited her. Well, what I mean is: yes, I do have one."

Cynthia could only watch in mute bewilderment as the woman brought the resume back to their eyes for inspection, curiously scanning the selection of pages. "And you didn't think to include this in your resume?"

"I didn't think it was that important…"

"It is", they answered eagerly, "this changes things." They brought a finger to her chin. "There may be a place for you here after all."

"Really?"

The older woman nodded with affirmation. "Would I be right to presume you've applied for the typical postal delivery position?"

"I guess…"

"I thought so. But how would you feel about applying for aerial service; delivery and transport outside of the city?"

"Outside? How far?"

"No farther than the kingdom's borders."

Cynthia brought her fingernails to her lips; such an unexpected question evoked great curiosity. During the limited research she'd performed, at no point had she ever discovered such a position available in the division. Was she really qualified for such a role – for the responsibility of delivering mail beyond her anticipated boundaries? Instinctively, her cautious conscience forbid such an idea.

Her heart, in contrast, suggested otherwise, and encouraged her to accept the role. If the woman she'd just met thought she was capable, how could she refuse the opportunity to at least try? Besides, Cynthia loved adventure and exploration, and what better way to discover the outside of the kingdom than with her trusted Pegasus?

Removing her fingers, Cynthia nodded. "…I think I can do that."

The woman smiled. "I understand that's a lot to ask of somebody your age – somebody without much experience. You see, we're always looking for those who are willing and able to travel great distance for deliveries and retrievals - and with a Pegasus as your mount, you could perform considerably faster than others. Access to extended methods of transport is difficult to come by these days; not many citizens are willing to travel these distances unless they're properly rewarded. We might not be able to pay you very much, unfortunately. You'll most likely receive the same salary as our other younger staff."

Cynthia shrugged bashfully. "I don't really care about the money, just so long as I can work somewhere." Money wasn't a motivating factor for her, honestly; knowledge, experience and perhaps some time with Gerome were her real ambitions.

"So…does this mean I've got the job?"

"Not yet. This…discovery has certainly elevated your opportunities, but there's still an assessment of your application as well as an audition process to determine if you're eligible for the position."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing unmanageable. There'll be a series of activities you'll need to execute, and we'll mark you on your performance. All of our staff have been required to participate. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Cynthia nodded understandingly.

The older woman smiled hopefully. "So, what do you say?"

Honestly, Cynthia didn't know how to respond; all the information she received was a lot to process. No less than ten minutes ago had she almost sabotaged her chances for submission, and how here she was being offered a position she didn't even know existed. Although a part of her still believed she didn't deserve it, she'd been raised to never be ungrateful in the face of opportunity. It wasn't the role she expected, but it was a role nonetheless.

"This is a lot to take in."

After a moment of reflection, Cynthia nodded. "My answer is yes. _I_ would love to accept that role, but I should probably ask my parents first. I'm too sure how they'll feel about this."

The older woman raised a hand respectfully. "Of course, and we completely understand. The safety of our employees is paramount; we won't pressure you into delivering anywhere you don't feel completely safe or comfortable."

Cynthia smiled appreciatively, relieved to hear she'd be offered some leniency. She suspected her parents would be relieved to hear this as well. But before that, Cynthia would need to explain the entire arrangement first; no doubt they'd have some reservations. Cynthia hoped they would understand.

Reflecting on all the details and information, Cynthia nodded confidently. "I think I understand a little better now." Before continuing, she hesitated. "…I know I don't have a lot of evidence or anything to back myself up - and I'm really sorry for including all that unnecessary stuff about me on my resume - but I want you to know that you can trust me." She stirred uncomfortably. "I'll admit I can be a little lost and confused from time to time on what I'm supposed to do, but whenever I believe in something – and I mean _believe_ in something – I'm totally committed to it; like, one hundred percent. And right now, working here is what I believe in. I believe I'm ready to accept responsibility."

Almost certain she'd embarrassed herself, Cynthia prepared herself for the inevitable eruption of laughter. But no response arrived. Instead, Cynthia watched attentively as the woman nodded accordingly.

"I respect that."

* * *

With excitement still channeling through her system, Cynthia exited the establishment in a confident stride, extending her chest and placing her hands on her hips. She was completely oblivious to the attention she was receiving from the surrounding eyes; she was far too occupied with her reflection upon the experience. She'd arrived that morning uncertain and unsure and emerged the latest member in the local delivery services employ. Well, almost an official member. Though proud of herself for her accomplishment, she was more relieved than anything – relieved that she'd achieved it all by just speaking honestly and being herself. She couldn't wait to tell her parents everything. She only hoped they'd be as ecstatic as she was.

Arriving at the bottom of the steps, Cynthia proceeded in her intended direction when an unexpected sight caught her attention – a familiar looking wyvern with an equally familiar looking young adult male. Her familiar butterflies of anticipation remerged over the prospects of sharing her experience with Gerome. She just knew he would be just as excited as she was.

Eagerly, Cynthia wasted no time in announcing herself. "Hey, again!"

She watched as Gerome feverishly removed himself from the wall he was leaning against to straighten his posture. Cynthia was disappointed to discover his trademark mask had returned; she'd eagerly anticipated studying his unobstructed eyes again.

Though excited to see him, Cynthia was concerned nonetheless as to why he'd remained. Hadn't he said he was due to perform his rounds?

"You're still here?"

The young man cleared his throat. "I'm…preparing for my flight."

"Really? I was in there for, like, twenty minutes and you still haven't left? Wow, you must take your time."

"…You have no idea."

Cynthia pouted teasingly. "And here I thought you might've waited for me…"

Her harmless remark was accompanied by a haste aversion of attention from Gerome as he returned to his companion. Cynthia eyes widened with delight as she stopped to assess the possibilities. Before, his demeanour suggested he hadn't moved at all, much less prepared for a flight; Minerva's saddle wasn't even harnessed yet. Had he really stuck around to see how she'd performed inside?

"You were you waiting for me, weren't you?"

Gerome answered desperately. "No, I wasn't."

His uncharacteristic lack of composure all but confirmed her suspicions. Cynthia bowed bashfully. "Aww, that's very sweet of you."

Gerome exhaled with exasperation.

"I bet you were" she teased, placing her hands on her hips, "it definitely looks like it. I bet you wanted to see how I went inside."

"You are mistaken. I trust you're aware of the preparations one must undertake before commencing with a flight? It's a very delicate procedure."

Cynthia snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses." She turned her attention to his mount. "We have a witness present. Is he telling the truth, Minerva, or did he _really_ stick around to see me?"

The wyvern that'd before been resting on the ground obediently now rose and extended its snout, releasing a screech. Cynthia interpreted the cry as a confirmation, and returned to Gerome with a smirk of satisfaction.

As she expected, the teasing was enough to overwhelm the young man. "I don't have time for this."

"I can see right through you."

"And it's such mystery why I don't value your company?"

Cynthia's smile faltered; she hadn't prepared for such a personal comeback. In hindsight, she accepted she may have overstepped a boundary. She hung her head apologetically. "I just wanted to share the great news I received with you..."

She waited for a signal of acknowledgement before continuing; after a nasal exhale, she was offered the chance when he gestured for her to.

Cynthia smiled eagerly. "Guess who's got a pair of thumbs and a job as an aerial deliverywoman?"

"Somebody talented and qualified?"

"That's right! This girl right here!"

"Truly?"

"Yep."

"After simply submitting a resume? I don't believe you."

Cynthia shrugged bashfully. "Well, I haven't been accepted quite _yet_ , but they said I'm eligible for aerial delivery 'cause I can ride a Pegasus. I was kind of interviewed inside. I just need to consult my parents first before anything is confirmed."

Haring the information with her inspiration felt a lot better than it really should have, and Cynthia was eager to hear his opinion on the development.

"Aerial delivery is my division" he stated softly.

She acknowledged with a smile. "Yeah, I know; they told me inside." She hesitated. "I'm…really excited to work with you…"

"It's a tremendous responsibility."

She nodded anxiously. "I understand that, I really do. And I'm totally ready for it. I promise."

The young man folded his arms. "When…are you expected to begin?"

"I don't know, honestly" she answered, bringing a finger to her chin, "knowing my mother, she'll probably insist on coming in and speaking with the administrators personally to finalise everything, so after that - I don't know…"

It was an enormous relief for her to discover he wasn't completely shocked over the notion of her being accepted, in spite of how certain she thought he would be – and from his questions, Cynthia hoped he reflected her excitement, though that possibility was very unlikely.

Cynthia folded her hands over waist. "I asked about what else I could possibly do in the meantime – y'know, to prepare myself – and they offered the idea of work experience; working beside somebody here when they perform their rounds so I can watch and learn how things work. A-and since I don't know anybody else employed here – much less somebody else responsible for aerial delivery – I was kinda hoping…"

"You want to accompany me when I perform my deliveries" he stated matter-of-factly.

Cynthia was relieved he understood what she was insinuating in spite of her rambling; she knew she couldn't have summoned the courage to ask the question.

"Only if you're comfortable with that" she added. "If you're not – well, I'll…I'll find somebody else." She shook her head anxiously. "It doesn't have to be for very long – maybe only an hour or two; just until I'm confident I know what I'm doing."

The prospect of him accepting the proposal was a fantasy, thought Cynthia; if he didn't welcome her company in his personal life, why would he in his professional. Cynthia prepared herself for the inevitable response.

"…I'll allow it."

Cynthia's eyes illuminated. "Really? Oh…oh, thank you. Thank you so much. This is – you don't know…"

She was interrupted by his extended finger. "Not out of compassion; obligation." He shrugged. "What kind of employee would I be if I didn't support and supervise a new recruit during their training?"

After processing the information, Cynthia accepted his reasoning and thanked him accordingly before smiling confidently. "I suppose this means you and I are gonna be partners…"

To complete the effect, she extended her hand to offer a shake.

She observed as he studied her hand curiously before exhaling with defeat and accepting the gesture. The sensation of their hands contacting one another sent a thrill of excitement down her spine. Cynthia squeezed his hand firmly.

* * *

Waving goodbye, as she watched the man she idolised slowly disappear from view, Cynthia reflected on the entire experience, still reeling with the same level of intense disbelief and surprise; it had certainly been quite the day. Although Gerome's explanation wasn't quite what she'd secretly envisioned–though deep down she accepted she might've elevated her hopes a little - the results were ultimately the same nonetheless - she'd finally have the opportunity to spend time with the man she'd fantasied about for years.

She couldn't wait to tell her friends.


	23. The Analyst

Gripping the string of her bow carefully, Noire concentrated on the coloured wooden target a distance away from her, making sure to assume the correct position her father had instructed her to when performing shots. Archery demanded utmost precision, sensitivity and execution. If she were to achieve the center of the target, she'd have to focus.

Before releasing t the arrow, Noire always released an exhale; for some reason, the action had always seemed to improve her accuracy. Unfortunately, the travel of air was released through trembling lips as the haunting memory of her most recent panic attack continued to plague her. Break concentration, she hastily shut her eyes and released the arrow.

Noire dared not open her eyes; she didn't want to witness the latest result of her slowly decreasing progress. She'd elected to return to her archery training as a means to escape her guilty conscience, and instead she'd discovered how deficient she was becoming with a bow. As if she needed this startling fact to trouble her as well.

Inspecting the target, Noire was disappointed to discover the resting place of the arrow – inserted into the blue section, and nowhere near the centre. She suppressed the urge to stamp her foot. For the better part of her adolescence, she'd always managed to mark the bullseye effectively and consistently, and now she could only barely hit the outer rings.

Noire exhaled with disappointment, concluding that persisting in trying to achieve at least one bullseye wasn't worth exhausting herself over. If she couldn't find pleasure in archery – her favorite activity – it was time to retire for the day.

Sorrowfully, Noire removed her protective gloves and quiver and stored the various items in their respected wooden compartments before returning them beside her household's rack for archery items. After placing her bow beside her father's, Noire decided not to return inside through the backdoor - she really didn't wish to disturb her mother while they were preparing a meal – and instead solemnly migrated around to the front entrance.

The young woman's resentment towards herself was further evoked upon reflected on her experience that afternoon. She was grateful her father hadn't been present; he would've been so disappointed in her.

Noire was abruptly alerted to the sound of her name being mentioned from inside. Migrating towards the window, through the curtains she could make out the images of her parents. Her father was visible while her mother appeared and disappeared routinely as she paced back and forth across the kitchen. And from their demeanours, they were evidently deep in an intense discussion.

Eavesdropping was an invasion of privacy, Noire reminded herself, and if they'd discovered her listening to their conversation she'd surely be punished for it. But after hearing her name, which all but confirmed she was the subject of the conversation, she couldn't bring herself to ignore. But after concentrating on their voices, she quickly discovered how wrong she'd been to listen.

"Of all the things she couldn't purchase legally before she turned eighteen, your daughter has chosen a set of carving knives. Does that not raise suspicion? Is that not a cause for alarm?"

"If I weren't confident she was telling the truth and speaking honestly about her intention, do you not think I would have executed the necessary precuations? She's improved – I know she has – and I am ever so proud to see her overcome that difficult period in her life. Her progress must not be left unrecognised."

Noire's entire body stiffened. They were having a confrontation – about her, no less.

"…OK, I understand. I'm…I'm overreacting."

"No. You're behaving like any sensible parent should when assessing a situation like this. Perhaps you're right; maybe I am behaving a little…leisurely."

"You're not. Honestly. I just – I don't know how to process all this. I _am_ proud of her – so very proud – she'd exhibited incredible strength and resolve, and I was certain we were beyond that stage. But now…I'm not so sure…"

"I share your concern."

"I mean - what if it's a repeat of last time? What if we don't find out until it's too late? She's become all too proficient at disguising her emotions. What if she's just lying again?"

"I adamantly believe she didn't harbour any dangerous intentions when she made the transaction; if she were to relapse, I suspect she would have been committed to concealing the cutlery set from us rather than sharing it. You are correct, however; we mustn't ignore a potential danger. If she is regressing, we must prepare for the worst. But my love, I implore you to remain calm and be still – for her. How are we to offer guidance and support if we too are distressed?"

"…You're right."

"Please don't dispose of the knives. She purchased them consciously for reasons I'm convinced are true. She deserves to use them as she intends."

"I won't dispose of them. Just…just remove them - and secure them somewhere she can't access them. I don't want to see a single sharp object in this household left out in the open."

"Very well. Consider it done."

"…Thank you…"

Noire felt ill; hearing such a crushing and heart-breaking exchange was more than enough to deprive of her what little emotional resolve she'd maintained. A burning face and a restless stomach in addition to many other physical and emotional symptoms were far too much for her to handle, and with immense remorse and regret for her selfish actions, Noire sorrowfully descended to her feet, resting against the house.

Noire wanted to cry. There was nothing more she wanted to do than just release all the emotions she'd struggled to contain for days since her last attack - and the escalating series of events that evening were not improving her mood either. Crying never resolved anything, however, and Noire instinctively knew her parents would've been even more devestated if they discovered she'd broken down once again. For them she would be strong. For them, she wouldn't cry.

Returning inside was not possible yet, for Noire was certain her face still exhibited the symptoms of crying. She knew she needed to ease and calm herself. Releasing a deep breath, Noire elected to employ the strategies Robin had advised for her when in times of despair: find something to distract herself with.

It was a relief to Noire that she was currently outside the walls of her home; she doubted she'd be able to recover while in the close vicinity of her parents. Without the fear of them discovering her in such a state, Noire was able to successfully still her uneasy conscience as she studied the garden decorating the surroundings of their home. She couldn't think of another more beautiful and tranquil place to escape into emotionally, what with the palette of exotic colours on display.

But one particular colour caught her attention. Concentrating on one of the bushes, Noire faintly observed something that didn't belong there; something that appeared to be a pink rectangular object. Rising to her feet, Noire was surprised to discover what appeared to be an envelope inserted into the bush.

After she allowed herself to register this unusual sight, Noire wasted no time in recovering it. It was damp, she noted; no doubt a result of the rains the day earlier. But if Noire was surprised from the sight of it, she was even more shocked to discover – upon inspection– her name was printed on it in with stylised cursive; handwriting she did not recognise.

Noire hastily examined the envelope for any kind of information about the item's place of origin but to no avail. It didn't even have a stamp. The young woman's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Was this really intended for her or was there another woman by the same name that she was unaware of. And if it was for her, why had she discovered it in the garden? What an unusual place.

Although this unexpected item raised many questions, there was one thing she was certain of: it had certainly offered her an emotional distraction; she defiantly felt a lot better than she had minutes before. A closer of examination of the envelope and its contents would have to wait for she needed to return inside. She'd already spent enough time studying the envelope, and so she inserted into her pocket.

After shutting the door behind her, Noire evaluated how she was going to explain why she'd entered through the front door rather than easily accessible back door; she couldn't just tell them about her rather difficult experience.

The young woman's mental processing was disrupted upon discovering her father assessing his reflection, assembling what Noire appeared to be his archery gear. Noire's heart sank; was he really intending on joining her outside?

Noire was greeted with one of her father's eager smiles, but it slowly disappeared.

"Oh. Are you retiring for the evening?"

Noire nodded apologetically.

"I see. Forgive me. I was in the process of preparing myself for a session of archery practice. I was hoping to accompany you for a little while."

If she'd known her father was to accompany her shortly after, she would have continued to practice, absolutely. Unfortunately, she doubted his presence would improve her performance – or her mood.

"I've had enough for one day" confessed Noire, concluding that he deserved an explanation as to why she'd retired. "I…I can't concentrate."

Through visible concern, her father still offered a positive smile. "Perhaps another time, then."

How remorseful Noire felt for disappointing her father. "I'm sorry."

Although she hadn't quite explained herself, the understanding nod he returned with all but confirmed that he understood entirely.

"Do not apologise. You've made the right decision."

Noire did not believe she deserved his forgiveness or understanding, but she was so infinitely relieved that he wasn't upset with her.

As her father jokingly announced how exhausting it will be to remove the gear after laboriously dressing himself in it, Noire returned the jest with a smile of amusement. Although she knew he'd been teasing, she still felt responsible for the endeavor.

After spending so much time outside – time she could've used for something more productive – Noire concluded she needed to make up for it, and decided to inquire with her mother for potential assistance or help.

Arriving at the entrance to the kitchen, Noire announced her presence with a gentle knock against the wall. Her mother removed a tray from the oven before addressing her.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Noire smiled weakly, in spite of her condition.

After inspecting the kitchen, Tharja answered with a shake of her head. "Not at the moment, no. But thank you for offering."

Noire acknowledged with a nod.

"What's this?"

Noire followed her mother's gaze to what they'd referred to - the pink envelope visible in her pocket.

Retrieving it, Noire offered the item to her mother. "I found it outside in the garden."

The dark mage stared curiously. "What?" They accepted the envelope and examined it.

"I _think_ it's for me" mused Noire, equally curious about its origin. "It has my name on it, but I don't recognise the handwriting." Evidently, neither could her mother who returned the unusual item.

Noire shrugged, "I think it might just be a late birthday message or something" before placing it back in her pocket.

Tharja gestured towards it once again. "Aren't you going to read it?"

"I will" Noire answered, "but…maybe later."

Noire had thought herself successful in projecting an artificial aura of confidence and security to disguise her low mood, but her mother's insistent gaze of concern suggested they weren't convinced. Instead, Noire's weak smile faltered.

Upon feeling her mother's hand embrace her cheek gently, Noire's entire body stiffened in spite of the welcome relief the gesture produced. Evidently her mother could see right through her as they only ever performed the action when she'd experienced something truly upsetting.

Tharja removed her hand before whispering softly. "I know you're not feeling well. What's wrong?"

Refraining from answering honestly, Noire averted her eyes in embarrassment.

"You don't have to protect yourself from me" pleaded her mother. "Can you please be honest with me?"

Noire didn't distrust her mother; not at all. However, she didn't wish to burden her parent with the knowledge that she wasn't feeling emotionally well; especially not after insisting that she was improving. Still, her mother had asked politely, and lying about her emotional state would only create more turmoil. Her mother deserved to know.

"I'm feeling down right now" confessed Noire, whispering hesitantly, "and I don't know why."

Tharja acknowledged, visibly concerned. "Do I need to prepare some medicine?"

Noire protested with the shake of her head; the situation wasn't that urgent.

A hopeful smile was offered by her parent. "I'm serving tea soon. Some food might offer some relief."

Noire lowered her gaze. "…I'm not hungry."

"You must eat something."

"I don't think I can."

Tharja exhaled deeply – the exact sound Noire didn't wish to hear; in addition to disappointing her father, she'd also done so to her mother.

"You don't have to eat what I've prepared" explained Tharja. "How do you feel about a plate of cold meat and salad? Do you think you can manage that; a small serving? Please?"

If she were being completely honest, Noire didn't think she could stand to eat anything that evening, but to prevent evoking any further distress in her mother, she accepted the offer. "I think I can."

"…Thank you." The dark mage gestured towards the stairs. "Now, undress and get changed."

Noire acknowledged her instructions with an obedient nod. "Yes, Mother."

Although she'd managed to explain herself in spite of her reluctance, the conversation her parents had exchanged concerning her safety and well-being was still disturbing her verily. She'd never meant to frighten them. She needed to atone and makes amends.

As her father returned from undressing himself, Noire knew the presence of both her parents was the most opportune time to hopefully ease some of the tension and apprehension she'd evoked with her actions.

Noire announced herself after ascending half-way up the stairs. "You can get rid of the knives. I've changed my mind. I don't want them anymore. I…I don't even know why I bought them…"

Her father's sudden refrain from speaking all but confirmed they'd heard her, and if that was the case, Noire didn't want to see their visible reactions. Instead, she anxiously ascended the rest of the stairs.

* * *

With anguish in her heart, Noire closed the door to her bedroom - her one and true sanctuary from the rest of the world. The young woman commenced with the instructed task of undressing and changing into her evening attire. Such a remedial task was made unintentionally difficult as Noire wasn't concentrating on her clothing rather her bedside mirror and, more specifically, the despicable person she despised in the reflection.

Remorse, sorrow and exhaustion were all symptoms she was experiencing. But the dominating emotion was her self-condemnation. Noire had never been terribly forgiving on herself, but in that instance she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so resentful and penitent. How could she have been so foolish to not realise the suspicions a set of knives would raise; of course her parents would misunderstand her intentions, and Noire was so disappointed in herself for provoking them with such a confronting purchase.

Unfortunately, her honest gesture of providing the family with a set of carving knives had ultimately backfired, and suggested she'd regressed to readopting her former habits. The very thought of that period in her life was confronting to reflect on, to the point where memories evoked slight physical discomfort.

After changing into the appropriate evening attire, Noire assessed herself in the mirror to confirm she looked presentable; her contrite expression suggested to her that perhaps she should try to restore her composure before returning downstairs. Not only that, an explanation for her final piece of information before she exited was probably going to be expected of her. Noire knew that she needed some time to conduct an explanation as to how she'd uncovered what they'd intended to be private information.

Upon sitting on her mattress, the sensation of crumpling paper graced her inner thigh. Noire carefully retrieved the envelope; she'd almost completely forgotten about it. The suspected contents of it brought a weak smile to her lips. If somebody had gone out of their way to contact her and wish her a happy birthday, than that was a message she'd like to read. At the very least, it might offer some relief from disturbed conscience.

And with this reassurance in mind, the young woman glided her nail beneath the fold and retrieved the paper from within.

Apart from the established dampness, the a signal that indicated something was amiss was the handwriting's quality – or lack thereof. Unlike the fluent cursive exhibited on the envelope, the letter's featured messy, almost unintelligible writing. Crossed-out words, ink smudges; it was like it was written by an entirely different person.

After ignoring these irrelevant observations, Noire wasted no more time and commenced with the reading.

* * *

 _Dear Noire,_

 _Happy birthday. Congrats on reaching the big one-eight. I hope you had a cracker of a day. You deserve it._

 _Look, I'm not too good at expressing myself confidently, and when I do usually sound like a dribbling moron or a huge sookie-lala, but this has been something that's been eating away at me for a while now, and it's about time I finally got it off my chest._

 _We've known each other since we were kids, and even as a stupid little boy I always knew you were special. You're so polite, caring and compassionate, and every time we're together I never feel like I need to pretend or be anybody other than myself. You make me feel good about myself, and I always look forward to the next time I have the chance to talk to you. I know a lot of people feel the same._

 _I've always really liked you. Your friendship has always meant an awful lot, but recently I've found myself thinking about you differently. I was a little confused at first but I think I understand now. I'm not saying any of this because you're older than me or 'cause I'm settling for any port in the storm or nothing that like that. This is how I really feel about you._

 _I know you and I don't know each other terribly well or share a whole lot in common, but I just wanted to let you know that I think you're amazing and incredible and so, so beautiful. I reckon I've always felt this way about you. It's just taken me this long to finally realise and act upon these feelings._

 _I like you, Noire, I really do. I don't know if you feel the same the way about me, and it's totally fine if you don't. I know I ain't the most approachable or welcoming person. I'm a right thug, if I'm being honest. You deserve so much better than me. But I just wanted to let you know that I really care about you._

 _Brady._

* * *

Blinking with confusion, Noire anxiously inspected the letter repeatedly to determine whether her eyes had been deceiving her. A mixture of conflicting emotions began to infest her mind as she struggled to process and make sense of this most unexpected letter. Noire was in disbelief; so much so, a faint scoff of amusement escaped her lips. She couldn't accept the item as being authentic.

Noire shook her head absent-mindedly, reaffirming to herself how wrong she'd been to believe its authenticity. _This can't be real. This…has to be some kind of joke._

Repeating the information she'd received to herself only evoked greater confusion; could this…love letter…really be intended for her? Upon processing that prospect, an unexpected thrill raced down her spine. It _was_ a love letter, wasn't it? Unmistakably. In all her years, Noire had never received one before. Sure, she'd seen some that her friends had received, but this was the closest she'd ever gotten to experiencing one herself. It was honestly very exciting.

Noire was speechless. Here she was trying to make sense of a love letter addressed to her; it was like something out of a fantasy. There were many elements of the message that surprised and even shocked her, but none more so than the name attached at the bottom – one that made Noire's heartbeat accelerate.

No less than two months ago had she spoken with the sixteen year old, and at no point had he done really anything to suggest that he was interested in her. Yes, he defended her and even declared how much he admired her, but nothing that insinuated he was romantically interested. Was this really some sort of ruse at her expense? Was this how the young man communicated with his female friends?

Noire winced with uncertainty, trying to rationalise the young man's message. "Brady… _likes_ me?"

However, repeating the question to herself managed to evoke unexpected warmth, comfort and - dare she admit - joy.

 _Brady…likes me!_

With newfound energy, Noire eagerly examined his letter repeatedly, desperately trying to absorb everything he had to say about her. Her eyes became affixed to one word in particular.

 _He thinks I'm…beautiful?_

And not just that; he thought she was caring, compassionate and so many other adjectives she would never use to describe herself. Noire couldn't believe what she was reading, but it was definitely the most beautiful thing anyone had ever done for her. Noire recited the description he'd written about himself, and it caused her to shake her head in protest.

"No, that's not true. You're not a bad person; not at all."

Noire was completely overwhelmed. She couldn't believe she'd received such a thoughtful message. She couldn't believe somebody like Brady – somebody who was usually quite abrasive – could actually value somebody like her so highly.

This assessment, however, raised further questions about the letter's legitimacy. Noire accepted that she didn't know Brady very well, but even she was certain that expressing himself like this was very of out character for him; he almost always refrained from sharing his true feelings. And even if there was somebody he cherished more than a friend, than surely that somebody was anybody than her.

There was something about the entire situation that didn't set well with her. Noire could feel that something was amiss – that something didn't quite add up. She was growing to suspect that this letter may have most likely been written in jest. And that possibility disappointed her terribly.

The young woman's entire body tensed upon the prospects of possibly sharing the letter with her parents – and not just because she'd completely forgotten about her expectance downstairs. If she became distressed over the envelope's contents, she didn't want to imagine how her parents would react and handle this unexpected development. She was most certain her mother would be devastated to hear she'd received such a personal message.

After some intense negotiation with herself, Noire decided she would consult her parents about this, but only when she felt absolutely confident – and she didn't know when that might be.

Examining the letter one final time, Noire declared that now was not the time to be assessing its authenticity, for she'd promised her mother she would eat something in spite of her lack of an appetite.

And with this in mind, Noire absentmindedly returned the letter into her pocket and exited her bedroom.


	24. Sitting On Top of the World

"Noire, will you please remove _that_? Do you not understand how impolite it is to be reading during a meal?"

Deep in concentration after being completely absorbed by the letter she'd read through repeatedly, Noire immediately realised she'd effectively escaped reality. Noire's attention diverted from the letter in her lap to her mother sitting opposite her, and she was greeted with one of the older woman's disapproving glares.

Noire shook her head apologetically, finally realising how disrespectful she'd been. "I-I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. I'm not – I didn't mean to ignore you."

Her mother's glare persisted, silently commanding her to dispose of the paper. To avoid potentially upsetting her mother any further, Noire obeyed, returned the letter to her pocket and retrieved her cutlery. While the letter itself may not have been visible any more, the message and implications still lingered in her thoughts. Noire acknowledged she was most likely overthinking, but she felt she had very good reason to be distressed. She'd never received a love letter before, and certainly not from somebody she was familiar with.

"Would I be correct in assuming that piece was the content of the envelope you received?"

Noire turned to address her father, realising her mother had more than likely informed him about the item. "Yes, it is. It's…a letter for me." She hesitated, allowing herself some time to properly evaluate her thoughts to find a suitable substitute for an answer. "Somebody has just written to me, wishing me a…late 'happy birthday'." For the sake of confidentiality and privacy, she refrained from offering the name.

The expectant gazes she was presented with her caused her heartbeat to accelerate.

"And who do we have to thank for such a considerate message?"

Under any other circumstance, Noire wouldn't have hesitated to answer her father. But in this instance, terrible reluctance and hesitation seized control. It wasn't so much the prospect of sharing the letter than frightened rather the presence of her mother that prevented her from speaking. Noire was confident the knowledge of a potential male admirer would evoke great skepticism and resistance.

Lowering her gaze, Noire whispered apologetically. "I'd…rather not say. I'm sorry."

"Noire, answer your father" instructed Tharja.

Virion objected, raising his hand. "It's quite alright. I do not mean to pry."

Her mother had been right to adopt that tone; disobeying her father and continuing to withhold information was incredibly inconsiderate of her. The pressure of maintaining the illusion that nothing had been amiss about the letter was starting to mount.

"It's just a letter from a friend. I'm very sorry for reading it at the table. It's just… I did not expect to receive a letter from them. What they've written is…quite important, and I just needed to read through it a few more times to process everything…"

Holding her breath, Noire hoped her honest answer would suffice as an explanation. Although ambiguous, what she'd confessed had been the truth. Returning her attention, Noire discovered the visible concern on her parents' faces, much to her disappointment.

"Are you in trouble?" Virion asked with concern.

"No. Oh, no. Not at all. It isn't like _that_."

"But it must be of great importance if you feel as if you need to read through it repeatedly."

It was only after a few seconds did her father's words register. They had been right; the letter was of great importance. If Noire hadn't already been disinterested in satiating her weak appetite, eating had effectively become one of the last things she was concerned about in the moment. All she could think about was Brady's letter and the implications it contained. She knew couldn't just sit idly and ignore it.

Rising to her feet anxiously, she immediately caught the attention of her parents. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But may I be excused?"

Their bewildered expressions suggested they hadn't anticipated such a question.

"Now?" Tharja motioned to their plate. "You've hardly eaten."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I promise I'll eat something later. There's just something I really need to do right now. It's urgent that I write a reply."

"Can this not wait until we're all finished? If we assess this together, we may be able to-"

Noire couldn't accept her mother's offer, and desperately interrupted her. "No!"

Heat immediately developed in her cheeks upon witnessing their shocked expressions. She hadn't meant to raise her voice at all. "No, I-I must do this by myself. It's - what has been written is for my eyes only, and I need to write a response by myself. Father, may I please borrow some supplies for your office?"

"I – Well, of course, but wouldn't you prefer-?"

Offering a weak smile, Noire bowed her head appreciatively. "Thank you."

Whatever else they'd wished to share before being interrupted was no doubt going to be out of concern for her wellbeing, and Noire cursed herself for repeatedly refusing their services. How she wished she could accept their input, but for this circumstance, external sources were not possible. There would come a time when she would be honest and explain the entire situation, but for the time being, it was paramount that she addressed the predicament before it potentially evolved into something she didn't wish it to be.

And with this attitude in mind, Noire removed herself from the table and politely pushed her chair in, desperately avoiding eye contact as she anxiously exited the dining room.

* * *

The newfound energy coursing through her body was foreign, acknowledged Noire as she feverishly explored the compartments of her father's office for the writing materials she desired; anything that could potentially make her upcoming project a little more manageable.

Try as she might, she couldn't determine what it was that compelled her to abandon everything she'd otherwise been occupied with to allow herself to properly evaluate Brady's letter. Noire tried to convince herself that she was only writing a response out of some sense of obligation or responsibility, but she wasn't exactly expected to write anything at all.

It was only after allowing herself to breathe did Noire realise she was possibly burning both ends of the candle. Here she was desperately trying to rationalise and make sense of her motivation when she hadn't even thought about the writing that would follow. If she couldn't even understand her motivation for writing a response, on Earth was she supposed to appropriately illustrate the feelings she wished to express into words?

Even still, Noire had even acknowledged the most crucial component of all: her own feelings towards the letter and, more importantly, Brady. Even after extensively reading through it, Noire still couldn't conclude how she felt. She should've been grateful – delighted, even - to have received a personal message, and while a part of her was, she couldn't bring herself to accept what she'd read had been written in earnest.

Noire concluded the most sensible course of action was to write a response and inquire about his motivation. No matter his reasoning – whether it had been a harmless misunderstanding or a ruse at her expense – she desired a conclusive answer. And if maybe – just maybe – what he'd written _had_ been the truth – if he really did admire her in that respect, Noire hoped he would offer an expanded explanation, because she couldn't even begin to fathom how somebody like him could ever admire somebody like her. Noire found herself reconsidering discrediting the latter possibility entirely in spite of the very real excitement she'd experienced from imagining the prospects of a potential male admirer.

Noire had been so distracted by her thoughts that she hadn't realised she wasn't completely alone, and the collection of items clutched in her arms were almost released form her gasp when she discovered her father had entered.

"I won't be using all of this" she explained anxiously, "I promise there will supplies leftover."

Her father ushered for her to be still, "I believe you" before gently closing the door.

His presence evoked resistance from Noire. Just what was it he wished to speak about with her in private? Had he deduced the situation? For somebody as inquisitive as her father, uncovering the truth would not be unbelievable.

"It doesn't require a genius level intellect to conclude that the contents of that envelope were quite distressing."

"It hasn't! I'm not…!"

Her father's smile faltered - he wasn't convinced.

Noire relented, releasing a sigh of disappointment as she discarded the items she was cradling, returning them to the desk. "OK, maybe I _am_ a little. But I'm not in trouble, if that's what you think. I'm fine." Her eyes migrated south to the envelope, "I just don't know what to make of _this_."

"May _I_ read it? Perhaps a second opinion will shed some unseen insight?"

"I don't think you'll be able to make any sense of it…"

Virion brought a hand to his chest in feigned offence. "Are you doubting my reading abilities? Neither of us will know if I'm capable of deciphering it unless you allow me to read it."

"This is the first time I've ever received a letter like _this_."

"Well, is there at least a name or address attached?"

"…It's from Brady" she confessed reluctantly.

Her father's eyes immediately illuminated with intrigue. "Lady Maribelle's son?"

Noire nodded softly.

"Well, how very admirable of him to contact you and congratulate you on your ascension into adulthood."

The further their discussion continued, the more restless Noire became. Withholding the information she desperately wanted to share was becoming increasingly difficult. "It's so much more than a 'happy birthday' though..."

Such an ambiguous comment no doubt intensified her father's curiosity; the suspicion was confirmed when she witnessed his eyebrows furrow. Sighing to herself, Noire could maintain the ruse no longer. Her parents would inevitably uncover the truth sooner or later, and if her father was so determined to support her during such a difficult situation, than she believed he deserved to know everything that had happened. And with this attitude in mind, Noire retrieved the envelope and politely offered it.

Noire watched with great intent as her father inspected the letter, and after what seemed like an eternity, they returned his attention to her after a session of deep concentration. There wasn't a smile or a scowl depicted on his face; nothing that suggested that he'd derived any response from the message. The only thing noticeable was the unexpected calmness in his tone.

"You were right" he began, offering the letter. "This certainly is quite an unexpected development."

"Now do you understand now why I'm so…anxious?"

"I understand But this is hardly a cause for alarm. The emotions expressed in this message _could_ have been quite unpleasant."

Noire acknowledged solemnly. Her father was right; she really should've been counting her blessings. She could've potentially received something really hurtful or upsetting. But such positive reinforcement did not improve her mood whatsoever.

"I know" she sighed with defeat. "I know I'm overreacting. It's just… I've never received a letter like this one before - and certainly not one where somebody confesses how they really feel about me. I just don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this…"

"Would I be correct in assuming you're feeling a little overwhelmed?"

Noire answered with a nod. Her father's accurate assessment of her emotional condition only further intensified Noire's disappointment. "I'm sorry" she whispered. "I know I shouldn't be making a big fuss about this. But I…"

"You have every right to be" interjected Virion. "If I were in your position – if I had been the one to receive such an intimate message – I too would experience difficulty trying to make sense of everything."

Although appreciative for his support, Noire doubted that statement very much. Her father possessed one of the most eclectic and inquisitive minds she knew; not all like hers. She was confident he wouldn't devolve into such a worried state over a simple letter.

"Well, if it's any consultation, I'm ever so honoured that you entrusted this information with me."

Noire didn't return the smile. Instead, she averted her gaze.

"I admire your enthusiasm to resolve this independently, my dear, but if we explore this together, we may be successful in dissembling the problem to produce the most sensible solution to follow."

Throughout her life, her father had proven himself an incredibly reliable source for guidance and information; more so than any other individual she knew. Being a passionate enthusiast for romantic theatrics, he above any other would be able to analyse the situation the most effectively. Noire knew she could depend on him to support her during this difficult period.

Bowing her head, Noire smiled weakly. "…OK."

"Would you mind I shared this with your mother?"

The proposal evoked resistance from Noire immediately. "Please don't tell Mother" she pleaded. "Not yet."

"Don't tell me _what_?"

Noire's body tensed. Investigating the source, Noire discovered her mother emerging from behind the door. And the look of intense scrutiny on her face emphasised how displeased she was to discover her family speaking about her in private. Her father's appearance had only startled her. Her mother's presence terrified her.

Noire watched with apprehension as her mother closed the door behind them and folded their arms, starting at her family expectantly. "Well?" She asked impatiently.

The response from her father – or lack thereof – suggested he wasn't prepared to answer when his wife was in such a state. Noire too knew all too well how unstable her mother could be when they were repeatedly denied something they wanted.

After a moment of silence and inactivity, Tharja released an exhale of displeasure before extending her hand. "Give it to me."

"No…" whispered Noire, reluctantly.

"Excuse me? That wasn't a request. Ever since you seemingly discovered what's inside that envelope, you haven't been the same. You could barely manage a mouthful downstairs. I demand to know more about whatever is you've received that's brought upon this obsession."

Her mother's intense glared immediately reminded Noire why she had been intimidated by the woman for a good period of her life. In her younger years, Noire would not have dared defy her mother's authority lest she incur their anger. Even as she grew older and more mature, refusing to comply with her mother was still a dangerous path to go down. Noire understood her mother was only concerned for her wellbeing, but that still didn't mean they were permitted to intrude in private affairs. Her friends and family – even her own mother – had always encouraged her to act more assertively, and it was time she finally employed their guidance for her.

Standing defiantly, Noire cradled the letter against her chest. "I… can't let you read it."

"And why not?"

"Because you won't understand what it's about. You'll…you'll only focus on the negativity."

"If you suspect I will, then it must be distressing news."

"It's not."

"Then you why do you insist on denying me permission?"

"It's not that important…"

"If it's so unimportant, than you won't mind if I read it, will you? It can't be that important if you've entrusted your father." Tharja extended her finger accusingly. "If you two are keeping something from me…"

Noire's father suddenly interjected. "We are not nor will we ever do so. This has been a completely new discovery for us too, and I promise no discussions concerning you have been exchanged by us or any other individual without your knowledge or consent."

"I really wish I could believe you…" whispered Tharja, folding her arms.

Although his explanation had been the truth, her mother's demeanour suggested she hadn't been convinced. Noire very much hated seeing her mother in such a state, especially since she had been the one to evoke such a reaction from them.

"It's about me, isn't it?"

Noire discovered a contrite expression on her mother's face.

"It's the most rational conclusion. If you're so committed to keeping it from me then it must be about me or something I've done."

"It's not, I swear" answered Noire desperately.

"I assure you" added Virion, "the contents of that letter do not concern you, myself or anybody else save Noire and the author. It was addressed to her and for her eyes only, I believe, and if she doesn't wish to disclose any more information than what she already has, we must respect her privacy. However" he continued softly, turning to Noire, "if _I_ was allowed to read it than I believe your mother is entitled to as well. It would be a compromise of trust if you only allowed one of us."

Confiding in her mother about the situation was exactly what Noire wished she could convince herself to do. Her mother was nothing if not committed, and Noire was certain she of all people would dedicate themselves in the pursuit of discovering the truth about Brady's letter. But this was a double-edged sword, for if she didn't welcome the prospects of a potential male admirer, the results could be catastrophic.

Noire had been so distracted by the thoughts that she hadn't realised her mother had closed the distance and approached her. There had been a time in her life when Noire would have instinctively recoiled, but the visible hurt on her mother's face prevented any haste movements. Instead, Noire listened intently as her mother released a sorrowful exhale.

"I will not read it if you don't want me to. I'm not – I don't mean to pressure you. I'm just – as a parent, if some confronting development has arisen then I need to know. I need to know what I can do to… support you. I need to know if you're safe. But after witnessing how…resistant you've become, I'm starting to accept that I've most likely mistreated you again, and done something for you to distrust me."

Noire had to summon all her strength and resolve to maintain her composure and prevent the rush of tears she wished to suppress. Shaking her head, Noire whispered softly. "I don't distrust you…"

"Then please be honest with me" answered Tharja pleadingly. "Has something happened? Are you in danger? If you are, you need to inform me immediately."

"No, I'm not. I promise. It's not at all what you think. It's just a letter from a friend."

After a pregnant pause, Tharja acknowledged. "Very well, then. I… believe you."

Following their reconciliation at her birthday party, Noire had never trusted her mother more than she had ever before in her life, and she was ever so grateful for their continued compassion and support – especially during moments of difficulty. Even then, her typically cold and abrasive mother demonstrated unexpected concern and sincerity. There had been a time when Noire couldn't trust her mother, but that period in her life had long since passed – and good riddance to it, she thought, too. Nothing – not even the years of neglect – could ever discourage Noire from idolising and adoring her mother. After waiting for such an extended period, Noire believed they deserved to be further informed.

Bashfully, Noire offered the letter. "…I _do_ want you to read it. I really want to know what you think of it."

"You don't think I'll be impressed?"

"No, I don't think you'll like it at all."

"I'll be the judge of that."

A mixture of conflicting emotions occupied Noire's mind as she waited in bated anticipation for her mother's insight. Ultimately, it had been quite reliving to have released herself of the burden and allow her mother to read it; like removing a bandage. But just like a bandage, sensations of discomfort still lingered. Any relief was abolished when she reminded herself that she'd consciously allowed her mother to discover that she'd received a personal message from a young man expressing his romantic admiration. Noire dreaded her mother's inevitable reaction.

Noire had prepared herself for some kind of vocal expression of displeasure, anger or disgust. What she hadn't anticipated was her mother answering in a questionably refined manner.

"And you said you received this today?"

"Well, I found the envelope today, but judging by how dirty the envelope is, it could've been left outside for days."

"I did not think you and this boy were acquainted with one another."

Noire smiled with unease. "We…we aren't, exactly; at least compared to other people I know. B-but I still consider him a friend…"

No response. Instead, Tharja's eyebrows furrowed as she returned to examining the paper.

Nothing her mother had said had implied they were disappointed or disgusted, acknowledged Noire, which was a comforting observation. However, the older woman did not at all appear to be pleased or content with the message either. A conclusive reaction – or lack thereof – from her mother was beginning to cause Noire a great deal of discomfort.

To properly explore how her mother truly felt, Noire elected to inquire further. "Do you think it's real?"

"Do _you_ suspect illegitimacy?"

"I don't know what I think. The handwriting on the paper doesn't match the one on the envelope. It's like somebody else wrote it."

"I wager his mother, Lady Maribelle, is the one who responsible for the envelope's font" chimed in her father. "The elegance of the font is a mark of a nobleperson; it resembles my own even. That delicate handwriting could belong to nobody else but her."

"The noblewoman…" whispered Tharja, dryly.

Her mother's questionably hostile tone disturbed Noire. Throughout her youth, her parents had recounted many a story about their experiences as soldiers enrolled in the Ylissean army. While her father never hesitated to reflect on the past with great enthusiasm and nostalgia, her mother had always been reluctant to recount stories – and when she did, they were almost always about an encounter between her and another solider, usually one she wasn't terribly fond of. Brady's mother had been one such individual her mother had frequently cited as somebody she disliked. No doubt their complicated history together had been the source of her mother's sudden unease.

Noire accepted her father's observation as a possible explanation. After all, Brady's behavior and attitude weren't quite what one would expect from the child of a noble, and his handwriting reflected that notion. "That does make sense, actually."

"And _that's_ all the evidence you need?"

Her mother's unexpected escalation in volume startled Noire. If their tone and demeanour were signals to go by, her mother had suddenly revealed their true feelings on the subject after much anticipation. And they didn't sound pleased at all.

"My love, please-"

"I'm going to confront them" declared the dark mage before turning face and proceeding towards the door.

Noire stared in disbelief. "Wait... What? Now?"

"Yes. If this _is_ some sort of humiliating ruse at your expense – if you are the victim of some kind of hurtful joke - then that wretched little boy has much to answer for."

In a panic, Noire pursued her mother. "No, Mother, please don't! It's not a joke!"

Only after witnessing her mother's bewildered expression was Noire able to realise what she'd expressed could've been misinterpreted. Having been so distracted by her compulsion to stop her mother, Noire herself hadn't even allowed herself to evaluate her words before expressing them.

To hopefully recover, Noire elected to better explain herself. "A-at least, I don't _think_ it's a joke." A nervous smile graced her lips in spite of her condition. "I… think it might be real."

Her mother stared at her as if she'd spoke in a foreign language. "Don't be delusional. We've established you and this boy aren't intimately close, so we cannot be confident this isn't an elaborate ploy to exploit your innocence. I don't believe this to be real even for a second."

" _I_ believe it's authentic." Seemingly coming to her rescue, Noire's father spoke in a serious but sincere tone. "I have spoken with the author of our letter on occasion, and I concur that he is indeed a fine young gentleman. They're compassionate, honest and, most admirably, sincere; all qualities he's inherited from his parents."

"His father is an idiot."

"I beg your pardon? I understand you're distressed but I must ask you to refrain from speaking about our former comrades in such a manner. I will concur Vaike is _not_ the most profound individual, but his heart has always been in the right place just like his wife's, and I don't believe either of them would raise their child to commit such a deceitful and dishonest act."

Confrontations between her parents were very infrequent in their household, but when they did take place, they were always very intense.

"My love, I identify with your concerns, but I urge to please put your troubled conscience to rest." Her father smiled sympathetically. "I'm positive our young admirer did not harbour any deceitful or lecherous intentions in mind. The pure, unfiltered honesty and sincerity they've expressed in their message reassures me that they've contacted Noire in earnest. They've spoken straight from the heart."

And after such comments, Noire was fearful for how her mother would respond being the most vocally provocative and inflammatory of the two. But instead of a vocal eruption, the older woman continued to stare at her husband, as if she was concentrating and trying to make sense of his explanation. The older woman exhaled deeply; not with exhaustion or exasperation but rather with defeat. Their contrite demeanour softened, and Noire immediately recognised the expression her mother adopted – for it was the same one they always expressed after they'd committed an action they regretted.

After a moment of silence, Tharja spoke once more, now in an anxious tone. "But how can you be certain he _has_ written this in honesty? Do you not suspect this letter to be some manipulation of her emotions? What if he wants her to believe he's spoken truthfully?"

"W-well, then he's succeeded."

It was only after discovering the attention had diverted to her did Noire realise she once again spoken without thinking first. But unlike earlier, the familiar embarrassment she always experienced didn't affect her. Instead, Noire was overcome with a compulsion to share even more of her thoughts.

"I believe he's written this from a place of truth. I recognise the vocabulary and language – it's unmistakably him. I can't think of anybody else who expresses themselves like this. And even if it _is_ admittedly a little hard to understand, I'm not…embarrassed or humiliated or…or hurt or anything." Noire bit her lip in excitement. "I'm actually…really delighted. I can't remember the last time I've felt like this…"

It took Noire a little longer than it really should have for her to discover she wasn't currently secured inside the privacy of her own bedroom – the only location she felt truly safe and comfortable to speak out loud and vocally evaluate her thoughts. But what was even more confronting for her was when she was reminded that she hadn't been alone to express her thoughts, and after discovering two pairs of eyes concentrating on her intently, panic overwhelmed the young woman.

While her father looked understandably surprised, her mother appeared downright shocked to have heard her daughter confess something so unbelievable. Noire didn't want to imagine what her parents thought of her now.

"I didn't mean…" began Noire, desperate to explain herself. But after struggling to maintain her composure, her humiliation and anxiety consumed once again and she fell silent, unsuccessful in find the appropriate words. "I… I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about…"

Noire prepared herself for the verbal assault of questions and accusations she was inevitably going to receive for her confession. But rather than being reprimanded, the response that followed was one she never anticipated.

The comforting smile she'd come to adore from her father returned as he acknowledged with a confident nod. "Then try not to concentrate on how you feel here" he began, raising a finger to his temple before migrating it to his chest. "Try to concentrate on how you feel _here_. Try to articulate your feelings into words. We may be able to help you better understand how you're feeling."

Noire was starting to reconsider accepting a verbal punishment instead; at least she wouldn't be encouraged to further explore and elaborate upon her conflicted feelings for Brady.

"…You can tell us."

Noire couldn't believe what she'd heard. Had her mother – the very person who expressed great displeasure with the arrangement – just encouraged her? Surely she'd misunderstood them. But if the older woman's softened demeanour and gentle voice had been signals to go by, it was quite clear that she'd spoken in earnest. Noire knew intimately well when her mother was being sincere.

Sharing and discussing her feelings had never been one of her strongest qualities, and even after so many years – after enduring so many emotional challenges and obstacles – the act hadn't become any less difficult. But even during the most confronting of periods – when her debilitating anxiety had prevented her from speaking at all – her father and even her mother had never abandoned her. 'A problem shared is a problem halved', they'd say as encouragement for her to speak about whatever is that may have been concerning her. Her father had once confidently declared that there didn't exist a problem that couldn't be solved with the combined efforts of multiple minds, and while the situation she'd been presented was most definitely a new frontier, Noire was certain that she and her family would be able to devise a solution together if she allowed them to listen.

And with this attitude in mind, Noire elected to accept her parents' encouragement and share her thoughts to the best of her ability.

After some reluctance, Noire sheepishly began. "I'm being completely serious when I say that I'm just as shocked as you are. As you probably already know, nobody has ever expressed any interest in me before, and after all this time I've just kind of accepted that a future together with somebody just doesn't appear very likely at this point."

Noire had confided in her father on several occasions about this sentiment, and each time he'd denounced the possibility, reassuring her that with time she would meet somebody she was destined to spend her life with. It had been the first time she'd confessed this to her mother, and as she expected, the older woman looked visibly disappointed to hear this.

"But this", she began breathlessly, cradling his letter tightly, "this feels like something out of a fantasy. I…I just can't believe this has happened. I didn't think anybody could like me - and especially not somebody like him. He's so confident, and he never hesitates to speak his mind; not like me at all. Sometimes I wonder how we can speak together at all when we're so different."

The very same inquiry concerning several of her friendships had been brought to her attention throughout her life, but more specifically her relationships with Severa and Cynthia. While it was true that she and her friends did not all possess the same qualities and characteristics, it was their dissimilarities that Noire appreciated the most about their connections. Noire didn't need to be told that she wasn't the most confident or expressive person – she knew that better than anybody else – which is why she was so grateful to have come to know two incredible people that valued her in spite of her flaws, and this was attitude she felt towards Brady as well. In mattered not how different they were - Noire always focused on what they did have rather than what they didn't: a connection she wouldn't dream of changing.

"So where does your faith and trust lie with him?"

Fidgeting with her hands, Noire reluctantly answered. "W-well, I know _you_ aren't… t-terribly fond of him or his family, but _I_ trust him ever so much."

Her mother's expressionless demeanour slowly evolved into one of contrite, and Noire cursed herself for potentially insulting her parent. That had not been her intention. Noire proceeded to apologise, but her mother's soft nod of acknowledgement all but confirmed they'd understood what she'd insinuated.

Recovering her confidence, Noire resumed. And the further she continued, the more restless and excited she became.

"I trust him. I really do. Even though we don't speak very often, I've always considered him a friend and somebody I can trust." An infectious smile graced her lips as she reminisced on some of the short but enchanting encounters she'd shared with the young man. "I remember the last time we really spoke. It was when Father and I last visited town together. I bumped into him and he offered to wait with me during Father's absence. He didn't have to, but he stayed and kept me company. It… it was very sweet of him. He's always been so sweet to me. Even though we don't know each other very well, he treats me like we're best friends. He treats me like I'm one of his closest friends. He's polite - well, sometimes – and he's ever so funny", she winced with embarrassment, "even though his humour can be a little too crude for my taste…"

Noire shrugged her shoulders bashfully. "I just… I really cherish the time we spend together, and I always look forward to the next time we speak. I don't care if we're not the same age or that we're almost completely different people. He's my friend, and I care about him."

Following her explanation, she was treated to conflicting visible reactions from her parents. Her father appeared to have derived great delight after listening to her express herself in spite of her reluctance, and while Noire was pleased to discover her father in such a state, she was far more concerned about her mother who didn't appear to reciprocate his enthusiasm. Instead, her expression was unreadable.

"But do you reciprocate his sentiments? Do you return the affection equally?"

"Do I… _like_ him too?"

Her mother nodded in confirmation.

Even after a few seconds the gather her thoughts, Noire still couldn't offer an answer. "I…I don't know…"

Noire had been so consumed and distracted by the mystery and ambiguity surrounding the letter that she hadn't allowed herself to properly think about how she truly felt. But rather than feel torn between conflicting emotions and compulsions, Noire felt empty and numb when asking herself if she reciprocated his feelings. And she didn't like this feeling at all.

Fear enveloped Noire. "Oh, dear. I don't know. I honestly don't."

Noire valued Brady highly as a friend – that she could infer – but did that also mean her admiration could have evolved beyond friendship as well. Brady possessed many qualities she loved, and not to mention she'd be dishonest if she tried to deny she didn't find him a little attractive, but was that sufficient enough reason to _like_ him?

"I mean… this _has_ been a very welcome surprise, and I never thought in a million years I'd receive something so…so thoughtful and beautiful. I do like him – I _do_ like him as a person and a friend. There are so many qualities I admire about him." She hesitated. "But does that mean… I _like_ him in that way?"

Pressuring herself to conclusively decide whether she did or did not return his feelings was causing her a great deal of stress and anxiety, the further she rationalised and speculated, the more clouded and contested her thought patterns became.

"This all so confusing."

"Love is confusing."

Her father's unexpected assertion caught Noire's attention. To her surprise, she didn't receive a glare or scowl of disappointment, rather one of her father's supportive smiles.

Virion brought a hand to his chest. "Now, I cannot speak on behalf of your mother, but I _am_ so relieved you've decided to allow yourself to evaluate the situation and where your affection lies before pursuing the next course of action. You've demonstrated remarkable compassion, and the reluctance you've been experiencing only highlights just how much this young means to you. I can see that intimately well. And if you do wish to achieve the same level of intimacy he does, perhaps there is a melody in which your beats in rhythm with his."

"I…I don't think I _love_ Brady…" stammered Noire uneasily, unsure if the explanation her father offered truly reflected how she felt. Noire was still very conflicted with how she felt, but one aspect she was confident of was that she definitely did not passionately love the young man. Though acquainted, their connection was not nearly as intimate as the relationships she shared with others.

"Must you overdramatise everything?"

Her mother's familiar, dry tone caught Noire's attention. Investigating, Noire discovered the very same unimpressed look the older woman presented following one of her father's theatrics or performances.

"I only wished to pass down my insight and wisdom. I am speaking from a place of truth and experience."

Tharja rolled her eyes. "Yes, but don't you think it's a little early to be talking about such conviction as you've described? She will discover that for herself in time. Please, excuse your father for his over-exaggeration, Noire. He's mistaken this innocent display of affection for passionate love and devotion. Perhaps he isn't quite as experienced with romance as he's lead us to believe."

Her father's feigned expression of shock and hurt suggested he'd understood she'd been speaking in jest. The sight of her two parents exchanging their familiar teasing banter comforted Noire more that it really should, she acknowledged, but it was so relieving to witness them communicate naturally once again after such a tense period.

Noire offered her father an apologetic smile. "I understood what you meant…" and Virion returned the smile.

"Just ignore what your father has said" announced Tharja, assuming her husband's position, "I will translate what they were trying to explain into a language you can hopefully understand a little better."

Her unexpected proposal and questionably polite and formal tone evoked apprehension. Her mother had made their displeasure and skepticism for the letter intimately clear, and now they were seemingly offering to help her. Noire couldn't quite determine what her mother's motivation could be, but the older woman's guidance was an offer she didn't want to refuse. Noire was grateful for her father's input, but her mother's insight was just as important.

Nodding in verification, Noire prepared herself for her mother's involvement, eager to hear how they would help her explore the situation.

"Now, how do you feel having received this confession of affection?"

If their question was an example of what was to come, then her mother seemingly wished for her to answer a series of question concerning the letter and her own feelings, and if this was the case, it was crucial for Noire to answer truthfully. The time for exaggerating and disguising information had long since passed. It was time for her to not only be honest with her parents but with herself.

"I feel… really good, actually. If nothing else, it's given my confidence a huge boost to know somebody cares about me that much."

Her mother's unreadable expression persisted. "Do you believe you would feel this way if you'd received a similar letter from a different gentleman?"

Although her feelings had never truly evolved beyond respect and admiration, Noire was still able to identify which boys she found attractive. She greatly admired Yarne's sincerity and honesty, and she'd be lying if she tried to deny she didn't find Gerome's mysterious demeanour a little enchanting. But pursuing intimacy with either gentleman wasn't possible. Noire was certain Cynthia would be devastated to hear somebody else would be competing for Gerome's attention, and because of Severa and Yarne's complicated history together, Noire knew she wouldn't feel comfortable being with somebody who'd previously interacted with one of her friends. She couldn't justify doing something so hurtful and disrespectful to Severa.

"No, I don't believe I would" answered Noire. "I will always welcome a message from anybody if they've gone to the effort of trying to contact me. But…if somebody else tried to contact me to tell me that they liked me, I… don't think it would quite have the same effect on me as Brady's has."

Tharja acknowledged once more, though her composure visibly softened. "And…what he's said about you – do you return those sentiments? Everything he's said of you and how you make him feel – could those be applied to him? Be honest with yourself."

Their final question, as expected, was understandably the most important, and the very same she'd been asking herself repeatedly. But unlike earlier, it didn't take her long to arrive at an answer thanks to how eloquently her mother had explained it. Although Noire still refused to believe everything he said about her – she definitely wouldn't describe herself as 'confident' or 'beautiful' – such inspiring words were made all that more meaningful when she took the author into account. Noire realised that she too possessed similar ambitions and attitudes. As he described, she too wasn't deterred by their dissimilarities or the gap between their ages; she wished for a more intimate connection with him as well. And after some reflection, she discovered she may have always felt this way deep down; she just hadn't realised it yet.

As an enthusiastic smile spread across her lips, Noire offered her answer. "Yes, they could and they do. He's said that he doesn't feel as if he needs to pretend with me – that he feels comfortable with me. That's exactly how _I_ feel about him. He…he doesn't treat me like I'm different – like I'm strange or unnatural. It's…it's like he sees something in me that I don't. I think I share that sentiment. I think I see something in him that he might not. He's mentioned on occasion that he's never felt terribly confident or secure in himself, but I don't see that. All I see is an incredibly caring and sweet young man who always makes me feel welcome…and somebody I would like to spend more time with."

Her confession was accompanied by a defiant nod from her mother. "Then I think we've reached a conclusion on whether or not you return his feelings."

Rather than relief, contentment or even joy, Noire didn't feel like they'd reached a conclusion at all. "So I _do_ like him?" She asked hesitantly. "Is that enough? Is how I feel enough of a reason to like him?"

"You feel the same as he does" answered Virion eagerly. "I believe that's more than enough of a reason, and a solid foundation to perhaps start a relationship on."

"I hadn't thought about that…" she whispered.

"I believe it's paramount you evaluate how to act upon these feelings before you pursue something you might not wish. But is this what you want? Do you want to become better acquainted with this young gentleman?"

The thought of her and Brady being an item was admittedly quite overwhelming. Having never been in one, she didn't know the first thing about relationships. But the dominant emotions she was experiencing – excitement, anticipation and eagerness – overpowered her reluctance and apprehension. This was happening, she realised. The opportunity to be with a boy she admired – one of her most cherished fantasies – was possibly going to become a reality. And Noire couldn't think of another person she'd rather call her 'boyfriend'.

"I…do" she whispered bashfully. "I want to tell him how I feel, too."

A passionate smile – one Noire recognised all too well – graced Virion's lips. "Then might I offer a suggestion? How do you feel about professing your reciprocation in person? I believe it would be a much more prudent and sensible approach."

"'In person'? Oh, no, I couldn't do that…"

"You can. A written response lacks the intimacy and passion that a verbal confession can achieve, and if you're truly determined to express how you feel, I believe he is entitled to hear your words in person rather than through writing."

Although a confronting thought, Noire ultimately knew her father was right. After all, Noire would be doing him a disservice if she simply wrote a response. If he'd summoned the courage to contact her, it was only right she did the same.

"You're right; I…I should speak with about this." Noire laughed nervously. "I'll probably collapse from embarrassment, but…but he deserves to know – especially after everything he's done. I just don't know what I'm going to say…"

"Just recite everything you've shared with us. We are both ever so thrilled to hear you value him so highly, and I predict he'll be even more delighted."

Her mother's sudden lack of involvement concerned Noire, especially after how active they'd been minutes earlier. Understandably, her mother hadn't shared her husband's enthusiasm and excitement, and a quick glance towards them allowed Noire to discover how visibly uncomfortable the older woman appeared. Her mother's concern wasn't unjustified. After all, they'd never be introduced to the notion of a potential boyfriend, and they had every right to be reluctant.

Noire hadn't realised she'd been staring until she and her mother achieved eye contact.

After a moment of unbearable silence, Tharja offered a weak smile. "I'm…pleased for you."

The sincerity – or lack thereof – in their voice was noticeable. Noire could tell her mother was not at all comfortable with arrangement. Although wishing to pursue her father's suggestion, the permission from both her parents was paramount.

"If you don't consent to this, Mother-"

Tharja shook her head softly. "No. No, for far too long I have dictated you on how I expect you to behave. I've…I've been far too demanding. No more. You're an adult now, and you deserve to be able to make independent choices. I will not try and influence you any longer."

Noire held her breath, listening intently to every word her mother expressed.

"I cannot control how you feel about this boy, and although I'm still not completely comfortable with this, your happiness and well-being is more important to me than my own." Tharja bowed her head. "'You have my blessing', I guess is what I'm trying to say. You may do as you feel."

"Thank you…" whispered Noire, breathlessly.

"But…but promise me you'll be careful about this" whispered Tharja, pleadingly. "If he says or does anything that is even remotely suspicious, you are to return home immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, and I will. I promise."

"…Thank you."

Although incredibly immature and unprofessional, Noire knew she couldn't just allow their exchange to end without her properly expressing her appreciation for her mother's support. To hopefully instill some confidence and reassurance, Noire closed the distance and enveloped her mother in an embrace. The older woman's stiff posture suggested they hadn't prepared for it. But it wasn't long before their hand began to caress the back of her head gently.

* * *

Noire quietly closed the door to her bedroom and made her way over to her clothing drawers. She observed the darkness enveloping the sky outside her window, reaffirming that it was quite late at night. She needed the appropriate hours of sleep. After all, the following day was to be one of great importance.

Whilst undressing and changing into her pyjamas, she caught a glimpse of herself in her bedside mirror. Rather than the timid, cowardly little girl she had grown so accustomed to greeting in her reflection, instead, stood an enraptured young woman. Noire couldn't believe the girl staring back at her was her own reflection. She couldn't believe she could ever look as happy as she did.

Snuggled comfortably in her bed, Noire spent the last few minutes of consciousness reflecting on everything that had happened that evening: spending the remaining hours of the night with her parents, and, most importantly, the letter. If she'd have known in advance that she'd receive a love letter from a secret admirer - let alone someone like Brady - she'd have gone to straight back to bed, convinced that she'd still be dreaming.

Although she was still ecstatic from everything Brady had to say about her, she was still a little apprehensive of how to approach him. Several suggestions had been offered by her parents, but the most sensible method she believed would be to visit Brady at his house in the morning and, if he wasn't too busy, politely invite him to spend the day with her. The very thought of speaking with him made Noire's heartbeat race and stomach erupt with ticklish butterflies.

Excitedly, Noire snuggled deeper into her mattress as she eventually allowed herself to drift off to sleep. Although there were dozens of elements she was still unsure of, there was one aspect she was absolutely certain of: she could not wait for the morning to arrive.


End file.
